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A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 




MAPEHO AND HIS EXECUTIVE 



A BUSY TIME IN 
MEXICO 

AN UNCONVENTIONAL RECORD 
OF MEXICAN INCIDENT 



BY 

HUGH B. C. POLLARD 



NEW YORK 
DUFFIELD AND COMPANY 

1913 



Fftn 






/V 



IT" 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW - - - I 

II. THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL - - " " 7 

III. I BECOME AN EXPLORER - - - - l8 

IV. "ALLIGATOR LAND" - - - - - 26 
V. CROSSING THE BAR - - - - "34 

VI. A JUNGLE HUNT - - - - "45 

VII. A RAILROAD JOURNEY IN SOUTHERN MEXICO - 54 

VIII. LIFE IN MEXICO CITY - - - - -63 

IX. "LO," THE POOR INDIAN - - - "73 

X. FANTASTIC FOOD - - - - - 83 

XI. AZTECS AND RUINS - - - - - 89 

XII. ARMS AND THE ARMY - - - - - 96 

XIII. ART AND THE NATIVES - - - - I02 

XIV. OUTFIT — TRAVEL - - - - - I07 
XV. "EL FOXCHASE" - - - - - II9 

XVI. THE MAN WHO DISLIKED BULL-FIGHTERS - - 1 28 

XVII. THE LOWER ORDERS - - - - - 140 

XVIII. THE DAWN OF THE REVOLUTION - - - 152 

XIX. THE SHOT-GUN JOURNALIST - - - - 159 

XX. A DAY'S WORK - - - - - 170 

XXI. BIVOUAC - - - - - - 183 

V 



VI 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER 

XXII. A "SCRAP" BEFORE BREAKFAST 

XXIII. UNDER FIRE ON THE RAILROAD 

XXIV. RIOTING IN THE CITY - 
XXV. AN EXODUS 

APPENDIX FOR 1913 - 
INDEX - - - - 



PAGE 

- 191 

- 202 

- 212 

- 221 

- 234 

- 240 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING PAGE 

MADERO AND HIS EXECUTIVE - - Frontispiece 

THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL . _ . - - 8 

MANGROVE SWAMPS - - - - - - 24 

IN THE LAGOONS : A NATIVE CANOE - - - 24 

A COLONEL OF RURALES - - - - - lOO 

EL FOXCHASE ------- I20 

FRANCISCO I. MADERO - - - - - 1 52 

INDIAN REBELS - - - - - - 1 56 

TROOPS MUSTERED ON THE PASEO DE LA REFORMA - 162 

FEDERAL AMBULANCE WORK IN THE FIELD - - 1/8 

REBEL CAVALRY - - - - - - 1 86 

REVOLUTIONARY LEADERS IN CHIHUAHUA - - - 192 

TYPICAL REBELS - - - - - - 1 98 

LOCO AND WRECKED FREIGHT CARS IN THE HANDS OF 

REBELS ------- 206 

SHOPS DESTROYED BY RIOTERS, MAY 24, MEXICO CITY - 214 
MEXICAN FEDERAL SOLDIERS GUARDING FOREIGNERS' 

PROPERTY ------- 214 

WRECKED FOREIGNERS' SHOPS - - - - 2l8 

THE GUARD ON DUTY OUTSIDE PRESIDENT DIAZ'S HOUSE, 

CLOSING BOTH ENDS OF THE STREET - - - 2l8 
TROOPS GUARDING PRESIDENT DIAZ'S HOUSE IN CALLE 

CADENA - - - - - - - 224 



A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

CHAPTER I 

FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW 

It was an awful disappointment. 

I had been sent out to a company by their London 
office, and there had been nobody in the office who 
had visited the company's sphere of action in Mexico, 
their knowledge of the concern being entirely 
gained through the monthly reports and balance- 
sheet of their manager abroad. The manager was 
not pleased ; he was thoroughly over-worked and 
under-staffed, and was impatiently awaiting the 
arrival of an assistant who must of necessity be a 
complete and certificated surveyor, a book-keeper and 
salesman, and a finished Spanish scholar. Instead 
of this the London office had sent me — with a year's 
contract and an infinitesimal salary, and possessed of 
no qualifications for the job, having been lured into 
accepting a billet that was supposed to be one of 
those delightful tropical sinecures where, after about 
a year's apprenticeship (hence the infinitesimal 



2 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

salary), you graduated into a position in which you 
drew a thousand a year and played polo in the 
afternoons. 

I had set forth cheerfully prepared to explore 
unknown country, discover Aztec treasures, shoot 
big game, and be generally picturesque, so when I 
arrived we were both disappointed. The manager 
considered that the company had insulted him, and 
I felt that I had been grossly misled. We sympa- 
thized with one another, but from that hour we both 
felt the awkwardness of the position, and began to 
play for our own hands. 

The manager, having received the shock and 
talked over the situation a bit, sent me to the local 
hotel, in which I was to take up my quarters tem- 
porarily. A crisis in the company's affairs had 
occurred while I was en route, and a visit of 
directors fresh from England was impending. 
They were coming out via New York, and should 
be due in a fortnight, then my position could be 
discussed ; meanwhile I was at liberty to settle down 
and get accustomed to the local conditions. 

The town of Tapachula, where I was situated, is 
practically the most southerly outpost of the Mexican 
Republic, and is located close to the Guatemalan 
border, in the State of Chiapas. Chiapas is still 
unknown Mexico, and is regarded by the civilized 
people of the States north of the Isthmus of Tehuan- 



FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW 3 

tepee as an utterly barbarian land full of wicked 
people and savage Indians ; while its one and only 
railroad track, the Pan-American, is a standing jest 
from one end of the Republic to the other. 

The keynote of Tapachula is its utter desolation 
and generally casual tone. Nothing matters, and 
everything is slipshod and squalid. The train 
service is nominally one train every two days ; but 
months pass during the rainy season in which Tapa- 
chula is left absolutely devoid of communication — a 
little isolated steam-bath in the Tropics. 

Hemken's Hotel was typical of the southern 
frontier. It consisted of a big bar-room, containing 
a venerable small-size billiard-table and two large 
bars. At the back of this was a veranda full of 
tables, where meals were served. This veranda 
looked on to a courtyard, or patio, two sides of 
which were occupied with cubicles ; and the other 
contained the kitchen and servants' offices. The 
servants had no bedrooms ; they slept in the patio 
or at the doors of guests* rooms. 

The guests' rooms were simply devised, and con- 
sisted of a long, corrugated-iron-roofed shed divided 
by partitions of whitewashed canvas, particularly 
designed to harbour vermin. The furniture of the 
rooms was simple : one plain camp-bed, with mos- 
quito curtains ; one washstand of continental model, 
the basin holding perhaps two breakfast-cups-full of 



4 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

water ; one fragment of looking-glass nailed on to 
the wall ; a chair ; and a few nails to hang things on 
comprising the rest of the accommodation. 

The hotel-keeper, Hemken, was a German, and 
should have been a millionaire, but, owing to a mania 
for worthless mining claims, he was forced to go on 
keeping the hotel instead of retiring. All meals 
were, of course, a blend of German and Mexican 
taste in food. Everything was cooked in fat (a 
German method), and tough and dirty as a con- 
cession to Mexican taste. The bar, however, was 
magnificent, and inferior drink is fairly cheap in 
Mexico. 

White society in Tapachula is elementary. 
Beyond a few coffee-planters, the German store- 
keepers and their assistants, and an odd Vice-Consul 
or two, there is no one of respectability. A few 
wanderers, broken gentlemen, come in sometimes, 
and high revel is held, during which the joys of 
London, the efficiency of a public-school education, 
and their kindred tastes, are talked over. But the 
broken gentleman moves on; he never stays at 
Tapachula. 

The community is an armed one — everybody 
carries a revolver. One judges a man's social stand- 
ing by his arms. The men of action carry blue 
Colt revolvers of '45 calibre ; the merchants, refined 
and unreliable automatic pistols ; their inoffensive 



FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW 5 

clerks, nickel-plated, pearl-handled, small-calibre 
revolvers, the kind the salesmen call " suitable for 
home defence "; and as Mexico is a country where 
the lariat or lasso is a fighting-weapon, your man 
who rides beyond the outskirts of the town carries a 
knife in his boot. If a man is roped while in the 
saddle, he can draw a knife from his boot and sever 
the rope. Homicides are frequent (they average 
three a week) ; but as it is only twenty minutes' ride 
to the Guatemala frontier, beyond which the law 
does not carry, the local natives do not set a high 
value on human life, neither do they concern them- 
selves much over the activities of the police. There 
is a military police force stationed in the town, and 
the local prison and police headquarters were oppo- 
site the hotel. Smallpox and every known disease 
raged in the gaol, and the guards used to bring out 
the dead on stretchers at breakfast-time till Hemken 
protested to the Jefe Politico. Hemken hated the 
military police, and particularly their doctor, who 
used to parade them for medical inspection in the 
open street opposite the hotel When this occurred, 
any ladies in the hotel retired to their rooms, while 
the male visitors lined up and criticized the show. 

The police took their duties seriously. One after- 
noon a Spaniard got drunk, and, walking in the 
Plaza (the Market Square), he emptied his revolver 
into a Mexican who displeased him. The Mexican 



6 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

fell dead, but the Spaniard, in order to make sure, 
reloaded and fired another six shots into the corpse. 
A policeman, who had been standing by, an inter- 
ested spectator, ticked off the last six shots on his 
fingers, then, drawing his club and revolver, walked 
up and arrested the Spaniard, who was too drunk 
to resist. The policeman bent over the corpse and 
stirred it with his boot. The man was quite dead ; 
but to make sure, he hammered the remains about 
the head with his club, then turned and marched 
his prisoner to the gaol. The corpse lay where it 
had fallen till nightfall, and every child in the town 
had seen it before it was removed across the square 
to the police-station. 

My manager had now found work for me. He 
sent for me one morning and explained that he had 
a little mission for me to undertake, that would take 
me about a week and enable me to see some of the 
surrounding country. He told me that I was to go 
to a ranch known as El Naranjo and collect some 
money (a considerable sum) that was due to the 
company. My route was roughly indicated to me, 
and I was told to start at once. 



CHAPTER II 

THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL 

I WAS over-joyed at the prospect of the trip, and 
going round to the hotel I got together such things 
as would be needed on the journey. 

As I was to go unaccompanied the question of 
packing was simple. I put a spare shirt and some 
food into my saddle-bags ; put a compass, a tooth- 
brush, and a safety razor into my shirt-pocket; 
looked to my revolver, and was complete. My 
horse was brought round, and I was fastening my 
shot-gun to the saddle when Hemken turned up. 

" Hullo, kid ! Where are you off to ?" he asked. I 
told him I was bound for the mountains, to collect 
some money from the El Naranjo people. He 
seemed interested, and asked me who was sending 
me. I told him that our manager had just given me 
the order. He asked me if I had been told anything 
about the country ; then lost his temper in a flash. 

"That blockhead! He send you up to El Naranjo? 
Why, boy, dey is outlaws, and kill de last three men 
dat vent up. Dey kill you, sure ! You go an tell 
the manager to hell ! Tell him to go himself." 

7 



8 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

Then he cooled down, and gave me the history of 
the El Naranjo people. 

It appeared that their ranch was high up in the 
mountains and exactly on the Guatemalan frontier 
line; that they were smugglers of contraband, 
robbers, and stock thieves — in fact, they were out- 
laws. But owing to their being related to the local 
authorities they had always gone unpunished for 
their crimes. They had killed cheerfully, and being 
of pure Indian blood were sure of local support. 

Hemken implored me not to go, and said exactly 
what he thought concerning my manager. 

I felt rather thoughtful, and appreciated the 
manager's kindness in sending me on the trip. His 
thoughtfulness in sparing my feelings by not warn- 
ing me of the character of the trip touched me 
deeply — so deeply, in fact, that I cursed him heartily, 
and changed my shot-gun for a repeating carbine, 
and left for the job feeling slightly less cheerful than 
I had been. 

I had a good deal to think over, and I summed it 
up on the trail. For me to travel round with so 
much money on me would be clearly inadvisable. 
On the other hand, the owner of the mone}^ would 
be safe, and therefore he must bring it in person to 
the town. But I did not see my way to giving 
receipts, etc. No ; only the boss could do that. 

The mountain trail was delightful. Tapachula 



THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL 9 

lies practically at sea-level, and a two hours' ride 
brought me into the foot-hills of the Sierras. Up to 
now the vegetation was purely tropical, but at about 
I, coo feet above sea-level the palms and purely 
tropical plants gave place to the big forest trees; 
all round one were coffee plantations, or green 
clearings of cacao-trees. Far away underneath, the 
strip of coast country stretches from the foot-hills to 
meet the Pacific, breaking up into lagoon country, 
which is a deep emerald green, broken here and 
there by lakes of water which glitter like mirrors in 
the sun. 

The trail was just wide enough for two horses to 
pass, and by no means easy to follow. A little 
higher there was a wide, boulder-strewn valley, and 
here the trail ran out altogether and was lost among 
the rocks. I tied up the horse and cast round a bit, 
and soon picked up the line leading to the ford. 

Crossing the river, which owing to the season 
was not very deep, I off-saddled and rested under 
some big trees. My horse was glad of a rest in the 
heat of the day, and I was quite content to smoke 
and watch him. Presumably this was the beginning 
of the siesta habit. 

My horse was one with a history. He was an 
iron-grey, with a very martial appearance. This is 
a distinct asset in a Mexican horse. He had been 
the property of a local colonel, whose imagination 



lo A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

was so fired by possessing him that he started a 
revolution. The colonel got shot, so did the horse. 
But he was still serviceable, and of a peculiarly 
amiable disposition, the chief surviving tradition of 
his mihtary past being a marvellous appetite and a 
pure, unconscious disregard of firearms. You could 
shoot ofi" his back without his throwing up his 
head at the report — this I considered rather an 
advantage. 

I watched my horse lazily, and saw him prick his 
ears and gaze up-trail. Soon a party of Indians 
came in sight. They were "Enganchars" (con- 
tract labourers) — that is to say, they were signed 
on for so much work in the plantation at a nominal 
wage. Actually they were slaves, for the schedule 
of work and terms were on a sliding scale so 
arranged that they could never get out of debt. 
This is the only way of securing labour in Mexico. 
Indians don't like work. The plantations need 
labour. With this arrangement everybody was 
satisfied except the Indians ; but as they died every- 
body was quite happy. 

The universal tool and weapon of these Indians is 
the machete, a very heavy chopping-knife about a 
yard long. They are very expert with this, so all 
overseers, managers, and employers of labour go 
heavily armed. Sometimes an Indian resents out- 
rage and kills an overseer and takes to the bush. 



THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL ii 

Then there is a hunt with hounds — a queer 
Mexican Uncle Tom's Cabin show. 

I finished my smoke, saddled up, and started on 
the trail. My horse climbed like a cat, in and out of 
dry river-beds, skirting the base of huge boulders, 
slipping on greasy shale. Anywhere a man can go 
without using his hands a Mexican horse can follow. 

That night I was to stay at an American ranch. 
I carried no letter of introduction, but all white 
strangers are welcome in that country. As I drew 
near the ranch, signs of life became apparent: 
groups of Indians cutting down weeds in the 
plantations, donkeys laden with sacks of produce, 
Indian women driving flocks of turkeys. It was 
evident I was approaching a settlement. 

The trail grew wider, and branch trails appeared 
in several directions. I stopped an old Indian and 
asked which led to the ranch. He could not tell me, 
for he only spoke the Indian dialect, " Tumbulteco," 
and did not understand Spanish. I followed the 
most used trail and soon struck the ranch, or, as 
they call them in the coffee country, " finka." 

The ranch-house was a big wooden bungalow 
with a corrugated-iron roof. In front of it, in place 
of a garden, stretched the terraced drying-patios — 
the cemented floors on which the coffee beans are 
dried. Flanking these were the machine shops and 
the huts of the overseers. Slightly down the hill- 



12 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

side were the huts of the Enganchars, all set in a 
big enclosure of wire-netting. By its gate was a 
bell-tower. This signalled the hours of work, and 
after work the labour is safely locked up — if not, it 
would run away. There is no slavery in Mexico ; it 
is a republic — there is contract labour. 

I rode up to the house and dismounted. A native 
servant took my horse, while the major-domo 
showed me into the sitting-room. The owner of 
the ranch was out, but food and drink were brought 
to me at once by the servants, and a bedroom made 
ready for me. 

Soon an old prospector turned up and gave me 
welcome. He and I sat on the veranda. I smoked 
and watched the sudden fall of night as the sun 
sank behind the mountains. The shadows of the 
mountains raced across the lowlands, and, without 
any dusk or half-light, night fell. The old pros- 
pector produced specimens and a pocket magnifier, 
and invited me to admire his wonderful trophies, get- 
ting more and more exasperated while I invariably 
mistook pyrites and mica for " free gold," and man- 
fully resisted his offer to make me half owner of the 
richest gold proposition in Mexico, although he 
came down in price from i,ooo dollars to 50 dollars 
for the claim registration fees. Even at 50 dollars 
I did not think I could live up to a gold-mine. 

Finally the rancher turned up and saved me from 



THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL 13 

the ancient " blowhard."* The rancher was a trim, 
spare American, Californian by birth, but bred in 
Mexico. He spoke English with the soft Spanish 
drawl, and made me welcome. I gave him the news 
of Tapachula, and informed him of my destination. 
He made no comment, but later examined my 
weapons and showed me his own arsenal. His 
revolver had several notches on the butt, each notch 
representing a homicide. He, however, was not 
communicative. We fed on quite good plain food, 
and sat afterwards on the veranda, drinking coffee 
with native spirit as a liqueur. The lamps were 
not lighted, as he explained — " they attracted mos- 
quitoes," and he pointed to two bullet-holes in the 
match-boarding of the house. It struck me that a 
leaden "mosquito" might have a dangerous sting. 
Foreigners are not popular among the Indians. 

Next morning I bade him good-bye, and he in- 
sisted upon sending a servant with me to act as a 
guide. Before leaving he laid his hand on my saddle, 
and remarked that after quitting my next night's 
stopping-place I had better keep my eyes peeled. 

I made the second day's journey with his servant, 
who was a walking dictionary of inaccurate informa- 
tion, and told many unreliable nature stories. He 
led me to within sight of the ranch whither I was 

* " Blowhard " is a beautifully descriptive American term for an 
old-timer given to boasting. 



14 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

bound, and bade me farewell, accepting a dollar tip 
with alacrity. 

This ranch was owned by Germans, and the lady 
of the house made me welcome immediately. 
Luckily, I spoke German fluently, and was received 
as an honoured guest. The whole establishment was 
a little bit of the fatherland dropped down into the 
Tropics. 

Beer was produced at dinner ; and I was taken to 
my room, which had a real bed, and real oleographs 
on the wall. Both my host and hostess were loud 
in their advice to me not to go on with my trip, but 
I explained that I had my orders and was convinced 
that nothing would happen. 

The El Naranjo ranch was about half a day's ride 
from the Germans', and I started off about five in 
the morning, meaning to get there before midday. 
About half-way to the ranch the trail was very bad, 
and I was walking slowly when a shot rang out in 
the bush and ripped through the foliage at my side. 
I slipped my carbine clear, dismounted, and took 
cover behind the horse and got ready for trouble, 
all in one motion. An Indian rose from behind a 
rock, and I saw that his gun was a muzzle-loader 
single-shot gas-pipe. I covered him and called him 
up. He was very apologetic, and explained that he 
was shooting at a squirrel and had not seen me 
coming. 1 decided that he was lying, and did not 



THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL 15 

know what to do. Finally I inquired who was 
his master. He replied that he belonged to Don 
Guillermo de la Cerda of the Naranjo ranch. 

" Good," said I ;" I am in search of Senor de la 
Cerda; you may lead me to him." 

The native accepted the situation without dis- 
cussion, and, in his role as guide, preceded me 
along the trail. 

I still held my carbine cocked. 

Together we reached the El Naranjo ranch. It 
was a mean little assemblage of thatched huts. 
Tied to the posts outside was a good horse with 
a fine silver-mounted saddle. From this I judged 
that the owner was at home. I threw my reins over 
a hitching-post, dismounted, and walked in. I found 
the man I wanted eating his lunch. He was raiost 
urbane and pleased to see me, and inquired how I 
enjoyed the trip. I told him of the amusing incident 
of the native hunter. He was delighted, and in- 
vited me to share his meal. Selecting a seat with 
its back to the wall, I joined him. He read my 
letters from the office, and we had a short con- 
versation. My Spanish was execrable, but when- 
ever he talked technics I could hide behind the veil 
of not understanding. It was a lovely interview. 
Both our minds were working overtime, and he de- 
cided rapidly. Going to a table, he opened a drawer 
and took out a roll of bills of big denominations. 



i6 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

** Please do me the favour of checking these over," 
he said. 

I soon counted out the correct sum, and he asked 
for a receipt. 

Now I had no idea of carrying that money my- 
self — it would never reach the office. So I lied 
brilliantly. 

"I am a subordinate and can give no receipts," 
said I. " You must come to the office and sign the 
transfer deed." 

Here he grew inquisitive, and I fled behind my bad 
Spanish and smiled vacantly. 

I then told him of the urgency of the business, and 
explained that he must come at once. 

He was quite annoyed, as it would have been so 
easy to recover the money if I had taken it — an 
ambush — one shot. In due course the inquiry, his 
production of my receipt, his sympathy and sorrow 
at hearing that matters had gone astray — all so 
nicely arranged. And now I was upsetting the 
carefully prepared scheme. At last he gave in with 
good grace, and said that he would accompany me. 
Together we took the trail, attended by three armed 
servants. 

The return trip we made through different 
country ; much of it along the winding course of a 
mountain stream. Everything seemed gigantic, 
the tall trees hung with creepers and orchids whose 



THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL 17 

dangling air-roots hung like snakes across our path, 
the enormous boulders on which the horses' hoofs 
slipped on the greasy stone. The thick confusion 
of giant canes, shrubs, and undergrowth, and the 
hot silence of the forest, all seemed to impress on 
me the extraordinary fertility of the Tropics. Trees, 
plants, even insects, were all bigger and more 
harmful than they ought to be; the poisonous 
undergrowth of the monte, harbouring bloated and 
venomous vermin of all kinds, seemed an illustra- 
tion of a mad world all run to monstrous evil over- 
growth, the whole country marvellousl}'- beautiful, 
but unwholesome, repellent, and hostile to man. 

Two days later we reached Tapachula, and the 
outstanding debt was settled. Hemken was more 
than a bit surprised that I had not been killed, and 
was sceptical that I had been to El Naranjo until he 
saw the men who had come in with me. But that 
is always the way in Mexico — the people in the 
next village, or over the next mountain, or in the 
next state, are invariably evildoers, murderers, and 
bandits. 



CHAPTER III 

I BECOME AN EXPLORER 

Soon after this the directors arrived, and after con- 
siderable discussion they said that I had better 
return to England, and offered me my passage home, 
with many apologies for having misunderstood the 
situation and having sent me out. I was not at all 
pleased with this suggestion, and pointed out that I 
had been engaged for a definite job, and that it was 
not my fault that the company had no use for me. 
Eventually we compromised, and I accepted gifts — a 
lump sum, cash down — and severed my connection 
with the company. 

I found myself then in a strange country, unused 
to local conditions, not speaking the language well, 
and possessed of fifty pounds and an outfit ; so I set 
to work to learn Spanish and pick up the customs 
of the country, seeking meanwhile for something to 
do until qualified to go up to Mexico City and look 
for a permanent job. 

The country round the railway was fairly well 
developed, but the State of Chiapas has always been 
the least known of any in Mexico. 

i8 



I BECOME AN EXPLORER 19 

Large areas of land were purchased by land com- 
panies, and in many cases the land was not even 
surveyed. Many American and European settlers 
have been deluded into buying worthless land on 
the Isthmus of Tehuantepec and in Chiapas. A 
favourite trick of the land companies is to sell the 
same ranch to several purchasers. The bona fide 
companies decided to survey their land carefully, 
and try to form some estimate as to its value. One 
company, owning a long strip of country on the 
Pacific side, had it marked on their maps as 
" Esterros," or lagoons ; but when viewed from the 
mountains it seemed well wooded and exception- 
ally fertile, so it was decided to run an exploration 
trip through it. 

I was asked if I cared to make an expedition, and 
consented, after a brief discussion of ways and 
means. Information regarding the district was hard 
to get and rather disconcerting. When digested it 
amounted to this : that the lagoons were inhabited 
by bandits and "bad Indians," which latter were 
accustomed to fell various valuable woods that grew 
in the swamp, and would certainly shoot any white 
folk who should seem to be spying on them. There 
were also excellent reports of the quantity of game 
and birds that were to be secured, but no one could 
be found who had ever been through the lagoons. I 
was accompanied in part by a German, who was an 



20 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

excellent cook and a keen naturalist. Together we 
arranged for the gathering of supplies, and got into 
touch with the Indians. 

In order to secure canoes and guides we selected 
the station of Pijijapam, on the railroad, as our 
starting-place, and arranged with an old Indian 
woman who did an enormous trade in hides to meet 
us there and provide transport to the embarking- 
place. The supplies consisted of tinned foods, flour, 
ammunition, and some rough surveying material. 
We took with us a fairly heavy armament, our 
battery consisting of a '303 Savage rifle, a '44 Win- 
chester carbine, and a heavy 12-bore Paradox for 
use with solid ball or buckshot. In addition we 
each carried the customary heavy revolver which 
forms an indispensable article of toilet in Southern 
Mexico. 

Pijijapam was reached by nightfall, and we made 
for the local hotel for the night. It was a good 
specimen of the typical hotel on the Pan-American 
railroad, and consisted of a large hut thatched with 
palm-branches, and inhabited by a family of Mexican 
Indians and their domestic animals. The usual meal 
of" frijoles " (beans) and " tortillas " (a tasteless pan- 
cake of ground maize) was forthcoming. At night- 
fall a few hammocks and native beds were laid out, 
and the hotel-keeper, his family, and his guests, all 
retired to rest in one room. 



I BECOME AN EXPLORER 21 

There was neither peace nor rest that night. 

Mosquitoes and fleas kept us busy, and, short of 
sitting in a bath of paraffin-oil, there was no way of 
keeping them off. The Indians do not mind. The 
insects bite them, but do not worry them any more 
than house-flies embarrass a European. 

Before dawn the barking of the dogs and the 
challenge of the night-watchmen announced the 
arrival of our escort. A creaking bullock-cart drew 
near, and several horsemen rode up to the hotel. 
The hotel staff" arose, and the volume of empty noise 
that the native must needs raise over every slight 
occasion showed that someone of importance had 
come. 

We went out and found that the senora with 
whom we had made arrangements had come to 
meet us in person. She was seated in the bullock- 
cart upon several mattresses, and was loudly direct- 
ing her retinue of mounted Mexicans how to bring up 
the cart to the door of the hotel with the dignity 
befitting her station. The cart halted, and the 
bullocks laid down in the dust. 

The senora descended and greeted us warmly, 
and then producing from under her shawl a couple 
of pullets, gave orders for them to be killed and 
breakfast prepared. Our kit had to be inspected 
and everything displayed and explained. 

We got over the breakfast safely and loaded our 



22 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

heavy baggage into the bullock-waggon, the senora 
took her seat upon it, and, puffing at a large cigar, 
made bitter comments on the lad whose duty it was 
to drive these bullocks. He walked alongside with 
a Mexican riding-crop — a stout packing-needle wired 
to a cane shaft. With this instrument it was possible 
to urge the conveyance along at a slow walk. The 
cart itself was home-made, the wheels being solid 
sections of trees set on a hard-wood axle. The 
axles were never greased, and the squeaking and 
groaning was an unendurable noise to English 
ears ; but a Mexican will not lubricate his axles — 
he prefers the music. 

My partner and myself were mounted on aged 
Mexican ponies. We travelled till midday, when 
we stopped at one of the senora's ranches for the 
midday meal and siesta. 

We sat in the shade of a roofed palm-hut (walls 
are unnecessary in this climate) and waited while 
lunch was prepared. This is a simple process, for, 
owing to the extreme heat, the only meat food for 
the country, with the exception of fresh-killed game, 
is dried beef, or "jerky " ; this is usually called 
"kilometre meat," owing to the fact that it is 
exposed for sale in strips of varying lengths. The 
fresh beef is cut in narrow strips and hung over 
poles in the sun. The result is a product looking 
like greasy rope, and more often than not full of 



I BECOME AN EXPLORER 23 

maggots. A section of this is chopped off and 
thrown on the glowing ashes of a wood fire ; there 
it curls up, and by the time the outside is charred it 
is warmed through and ready to eat. A knife and 
fork make no impression upon it at all. 

The only way is to eat it au naturel, and seize it 
in the teeth and shred it apart. The whole party 
sat round tearing up this meat, and eating stewed 
beans out of the pot. Spoons were unknown. One 
has to fold up one's tortilla and dip out the stew 
into it, and thus transfer it to the mouth. In a 
few minutes the tortilla becomes sloppy, and quite 
useless as a spoon. There are no plates, or glasses 
for drinking purposes. A calabash floating in a big 
earthenware jug of brackish water is the only 
thing. 

To successfully negotiate a meal with the Mexican 
Indians is no mean test of one's adaptability ! 
However, we did our best to conform with the 
local customs. 

After a short rest we began to enter the lagoon 
country, and swarms of mosquitoes settled on us. 
Our faces and hands were covered, while the horses 
were thick with them. The poor beasts did not 
seem to mind ; but we Europeans were obliged to 
don heavy buckskin gauntlets, and wrap our silk 
neck-handkerchiefs around our faces. 

Shortly we reached the canoes ; these were long 



24 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

dugouts, hewn from a single tree-trunk, and about 
thirty feet long by three feet wide. The embarka- 
tion was at last safely accomplished, and all the stores 
stowed carefully and covered with waterproofs. 

The senora now informed us that she was coming 
with us part of the way in order to visit one of her 
numerous relations. As the old lady and her retinue 
made more noise than a pile-driver, and I wished to 
shoot game, I was not too pleased. But as she was 
the local autocrat I did not see how to get her to 
understand that her presence was not regarded as 
indispensable. 

The canoes slipped off, and, taking the time from 
the canoe-boy of the leading canoe, the whole crowd 
began to chant an Indian canoe song. The channel 
through which we were steering was little more 
than six feet wide, and everywhere above the water 
showed the gnarled and blackened trunks of fallen 
trees. Above us towered the green foliage of the 
great forest trees, bright with the flowers of creepers 
and orchids, while on each side the grey roots and 
suckers of the mangroves reached down into the mud. 

The lagoons were crowded with wild life. On 
every snag sat cormorants and herons ; bitterns sat 
motionless and unafraid within a few feet of the 
boat. As we approached an open lake of water, 
such as the Indians call a " pampas," my boy pointed 
out a string of small white herons flying across. 




MANGROVE SWAMPS 




IN THE LAGOONS, A NATIVE CANOE 



I BECOME AN EXPLORER 25 

" Those are 'garson' — ' egrets/" he said. "In the 
spring we kill lots of them for their plumes," and he 
told me of the slaughter of the birds by the Indian 
hunters, and the bloody fights between the different 
villages for the possession of the egret plumes. 



CHAPTER IV ( 

"ALLIGATOR LAND" 

It was then mid-afternoon, and we determined to 
push on, to reach the fishing village of Agua Dulce 
that evening. 

The channel leading to the village was about 
fifty yards broad, and so deep that the poles could 
no longer be used, and we were forced to paddle. 
The senora was by this time asleep, and the retinue 
had dropped into silence. The canoe-boy in the 
bows pointed out something down the river, and 
following the direction of his hand I saw something 
moving across the waters. 

" Lagarta grande " (a big alligator), he whispered, 
and I got my heavy 12-bore Paradox ready. 

Gradually the canoe crept down-stream, till I 
could see the outline of the top of his head, the 
heavy arches over his eyes, and the point of his 
snout showing like pieces of log above the water. 
He moved silently ; only the big V-shaped ripples 
on the surface showed that he was moving at all. 
At about fifty yards I fired at the hinder corner of 
the eye, and heard the heavy bullet tell upon the 

26 



"ALLIGATOR LAND" 27 

head. The recoil shook the whole boat, and the 
senora awoke with a scream. 

Shouts from the boys announced the success of 
my shot, and they feverishly urged the canoe to the 
spot where the brute had sunk. Clouds of mud 
rising from the bottom showed where he lay. A 
barbed iron head was fitted to the canoe-pole and 
lashed on with rope, and a little prodding about soon 
discovered the corpse. Speared through the soft 
underpart, he was speedily brought to the surface. 

An alligator is most unpleasant, alive or dead, and 
I think he is worst when you have to skin him. 
He has a disgusting smell, intermediate between 
musk and fish. The skin on the back is so thick 
that it practically adheres to the backbone, and has 
to be chopped free with an axe or heavy knife. It 
is very difficult to avoid cutting through the skin 
itself during the process. 

Just before sunset we reached Agua Dulce, which 
turned out to be a little fishing village on a strip of 
beach between the Pacific and the lagoons. It was 
almost impossible to hear ourselves speak at first, 
owing to the continual booming of the Pacific surf, 
but after a while our ears got tuned to it. 

I was introduced to the headman, or "jefe," of the 
village, and was promptly invited to his hut to feed. 
We commenced with the inevitable tortillas, and I 
was given a variety of black-pudding or sausage. 



28 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

It was quite edible until my partner arrived. 

" Do you know what you are eating ?" he asked. 

I said, " No, but it seems all right." 

He grinned, and explained that it was a weird 
delicacy made of alligator's blood. I gave the 
remainder of the saurian to the dogs. 

A native bedstead was produced, and I rigged 
up my mosquito net and turned in, but not to sleep. 
The bedstead was a loose wooden frame, laced 
across in wide squares with strips of cowhide. 
The result was, that these made a chequer-board 
pattern on one's back. After an uneasy night and 
much chasing of fleas and jungle ticks, I lay awake 
before the dawn, and all the noises of the village 
began to break the stillness. The deep boom of the 
surf seemed now a dull murmur, and the clear notes 
of a cock crowing were taken up by other distant 
birds. The leaves of the trees began to shake as 
hidden night animals retired at the approach of 
the day and disturbed the roosting waterfowl, 
waking the forest to life. At last the sun rose. 

The first beams struck the mountain-tops and 
changed the clouds that concealed them to billows 
of rose-coloured mists. Above the horizon the rays 
shot up like the sticks of a crimson fan, and gradually 
the edge of the golden disc itself appeared above 
the sea. 

The sunlight seemed to race along the waves and 



"ALLIGATOR LAND" 29 

turn the crests of the great surf-breakers into vivid 
blue. The whole colour of the ocean changed from 
grey to blue flecked with white, and a golden path- 
way ran over it to the centre of the sun. 

The flood of light rushed inland, dispelling the 
shadows and mists of the night and forming great 
golden patches on the surfaces of the lagoons. 
Birds began to twitter in the thickets, and solemn 
cranes flapped to the water's edge. Flight after 
flight of cranes, egrets, cormorants, and gorgeous 
flamingo-coloured spoonbills, flew over the village, 
and little wisps of smoke arose from the houses 
as the women began to light the fires. Chil- 
dren came out, and soon the village life was in 
full swing. 

After a hasty drink of coflee and a mouthful of 
food, we obtained a calabash or two of fresh water, 
and, strenuously avoiding the senora, stole away. 
Once clear of the village the waterways were alive 
with wildfowl, and a shot or two soon brought in 
enough food for the canoe-boys. They seemed 
fairly omnivorous, but only had about three names 
to use for all known varieties of bird. Everything 
was either "pajarito," or "garson"; but it was 
obvious that the subject did not interest them. 

Midday brought us to the Isla de las Brujhas, the 
" Isle of Witches," and here we paused for lunch 
and siesta. 



30 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

The island was about four acres in extent, and 
only about twenty feet higher than the surrounding 
country. A few cocoa-palms grew here and there, 
and following an overgrown track, we reached a 
tumble-down palm hut, and a cleared patch in the 
undergrowth where a few charred posts showed 
that a hut, or " rancho," had once stood. 

As we approached, a big zopilote, or scavenger 
buzzard, got up and flopped heavily away to a 
neighbouring tree. The canoe-boy crossed himself, 
and I asked why the island was thus abandoned. 

He told me the story of how three brothers who 
were bandits had been outlawed from the hill 
country, and came to live in the secrecy of the 
" monte," as they termed the swamps. With them 
came their women-folk, and it chanced that the 
Rurales (the mounted police force) recognized one 
of the women as she was selling dried fish in an 
inland market. They tortured her till she betrayed 
the hiding-place. And they sent an expedition of 
forty men in canoes to wipe out the bandits. 
Warning reached the brothers too late, but they 
were well armed, desperate, and good shots. The 
battle lasted two days and two nights. On the 
morning of the third day it was seen that only one 
man was firing from the island. Two Rurales 
landed, and, circling round to the side of the house, 
shot down the bandit and all the women. The 



"ALLIGATOR LAND" 31 

rancho was burnt to the ground, and the little 
plantation laid waste. 

Since that time no Indian will settle on the 
island, and indeed it seemed as if some taint still 
clung to it. Rank weeds grew in the maize path, 
and the small fruit-trees and palms seemed un- 
touched by man or bird. 

Our stop for the evening was to be the Bar of 
Tolomita. About two-thirds of the distance had 
been covered when I decided to land for a while, 
and rest on a small " hard " of sand on the jungle 
side of the pathway. I got ashore, carrying my 
rifle and bandolier, and lit a pipe to keep off the 
mosquitoes. 

I had hardly advanced six yards before I noticed 
the ground was covered with what I took to be 
deer tracks. Reaching a clearing under some big 
trees, a rustling in the bushes startled me, and a 
wild pig rushed out into the open. On seeing me 
he stopped dead. I fired and bowled him over. 
An instant's silence followed the report. Then the 
whole forest seemed to go mad. Screams and 
grunts came from the bush, and birds and parrots 
flew around shrieking. About ten pigs came out of 
the bush and rushed to their fallen comrade. It 
then occurred to me what I had done. I had shot 
one of a herd of peccary ! 

Now, I knew of the persistence of these animals. 



32 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

and how feared they were by the Indians, and it did 
not make me waste time in moving. I grabbed on 
the nearest creeper that would bear my weight, and, 
rifle and all, hustled up to the parent tree as quickly 
as possible. I managed to swing astride a lower 
branch, and, crawling along, was soon safe in the 
crutch of a big red cedar. The peccaries were now 
looking at me, and one was evidently smelling the 
creeper I had climbed. All of a sudden he squealed 
with rage and charged to the foot of the tree. The 
others joined him, and a wave of rage seemed to 
run right through the herd. Some gnashed at the 
creepers with their tusks, and others just stood and 
watched me with their little red eyes gleaming with 
obstinate hate. 

I estimated the herd as being about thirty to 
thirty-five strong, and it was of both sexes. There 
were no little pigs with the sows, but quite a pro- 
portion of " yearlings." 

I began to shoot, picking out the noisiest members 
of the herd. The peccaries were immediately 
interested, but beyond investigating the corpses, did 
not retreat. They seemed absolutely devoid of 
fear. It was then I discovered the full horror of 
my predicament — that tree was full of fire ants, and 
a fire ant is a small ant that feels like a hot cigarette- 
end wherever he touches ; so I felt that it was no 
time for humanitarian principles when I had a few 



"ALLIGATOR LAND" 33 

dozen of these little beasts in my shirt. They were 
swarming over me : I reloaded the magazine of my 
Savage, and commenced the slaughter, often getting 
two pigs with the same bullet. In about two 
minutes there were only about five pigs left, and 
my rifle ammunition was exhausted. I determined 
to make a run for the boat, and leaving the trunk of 
the tree between myself and the enemy, I slid down 
a creeper rope. 

Drawing my heavy Colt revolver, I started and 
made a run for the beach, shooting back as I ran. 
I got on board the canoe and refilled my rifle 
magazine, then, taking the Paradox loaded with 
the buckshot, I and the canoe-boys landed. The 
remainder of the peccaries fled into the bush, and 
we set to work to count the dead. While the boys 
were cutting out the tusks, I sat down to a quiet 
ant hunt, and soon was free of my visitors. 

We took some of the peccaries along for food, for 
if the scent glands are removed they make very 
fair pork. The remainder we left for wandering 
Indians or the creatures of the forest. 

If it had not been for my habit of carrying a 
bandolier full of cartridges and a hip revolver as 
well, I might have remained up in the tree till 
Doomsday. 



CHAPTER V 

CROSSING THE BAR 

After the peccary incident I was a bit more careful 
about shooting on sight. That night we made an 
early camp at El Barras de Tolomita (the Bar of 
Tolomita), on a slight spit of sand where the fisber- 
folk had erected one or two tumble-down palm 
shelters under the lee of the beech. We then 
hastily built a fire of drift-wood to cook our meal 
of pork. 

The fire was barely alight, and one of the boys 
was half-way through the dissection of a pig, when 
night fell. The mosquito nets were soon rigged up, 
and by the light of the fire we enjoyed a sumptuous 
peccary supper. The rest of the animal was 
hung up, and we turned in, the cool sea-breeze 
making a pleasant change from the usual tropical 
night. 

About one o'clock I was awakened by a most 
startling howl, and sat up under the net. The canoe- 
boys were awake and gazing into the dark. Wild 
thoughts of attacks by bandits or savage Indians 
ran through my mind ; but the night was dead silent 

34 



CROSSING THE BAR 35 

except for the hum of insects and an occasional 
splash from the lagoons. 

Suddenly, almost at my elbow, the howl came 
again, and the boys yelled " Tigre " ! (tiger), and 
jumped up to put more wood on the red embers of 
the fire. There was a crash or two under one of 
the shelters, and then we heard something being 
dragged along the sand. The fire blazed up again, 
and, reassured by the light, we made investigations. 

The body of the pig was gone, and the boys 
pointed to the tracks, saying, "Tigre grande!" (a 
big tiger). After a hasty search to see that every- 
thing else was all right, we built up a blazing fire and 
turned in again. 

At dawn I got up, and, taking the Paradox, started 
to follow the tracks. With me came Luis, one of 
the canoe-boys ; a heavy breeze enabled me to work 
up-wind. The tracks were deep in the sand, but 
there was very little sign of the pig's body having 
been dragged along. I fancy that the tiger had 
held it clear in his jaws, and bounded along when 
scared by the fire, for the tracks were very deep 
and far apart. 

Soon we came to the fringe of thorn-bush that 
showed the beginning of the "monte." Luis 
signalled me to remain behind, and crept forward 
quietly. Soon he beckoned to me to creep up. I 
got to where he was, and he pointed to a spot about 



36 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

fifty yards ahead, where, on a patch of sunlit sand, 
lay a leopard. 

Handing him the Paradox, I took the '303 Savage 
instead, and, taking a rest over his shoulder, I fired. 
Reloading as I ran, I reached the clearing. The 
leopard lay stretched out by his stolen meat (w^hich 
was practically untouched) ; my bullet had ploughed 
him from side to side, and he was stone-dead. 

Leaving Luis to skin him, I set out to return to 
camp along the seashore, and encountered a turtle. 
It was the first I had met, and I was puzzled whether 
to shoot it or catch it alive. 

The latter seemed more entertaining, so, remem- 
bering the stories of my youth, I sought for drift- 
wood in order to turn it on its back. 

Having found the drift-wood, I approached the 
sleeping turtle, laid my rifle down on the sand, and, 
taking up a strategic position between the sea and 
the turtle, tried to lever him up. The beast was 
much heavier than I expected, and the heave did 
not work. Instead, the turtle woke and bolted. 
I pursued, and managed to spill him over at the 
second try, and, by smiting him lustily, induced him 
to keep quiet. I could not safely leave him, for the 
brute would try and turn over, and once did so. 
Luckily Luis appeared. We soon cut creepers and 
made a sling with which to drag the capture to 
the camp. 



CROSSING THE BAR 37 

There was much joy when we returned laden 
with a leopard-skin and a " tortuga." It seemed 
that turtle meat was appreciated, and we deter- 
mined to kill it at once. Luis superintended the 
execution. He turned the turtle on to its belly and 
stood by with gleaming machete for the brute to 
put its head out. Slowly the cruel beak and 
leathery neck protruded, one by one the flippers 
came out of the sockets, and it stood on tiptoe. 
Luis's machete descended, and the execution was 
over. I was interested in the anatomy of turtles 
and had never investigated one, so I set to work 
with knife and axe to detach the lower plate of the 
corpse. Turtle-shell is about as hard to cut as horn, 
and I made a fearful job of it, but finally opened the 
case. I found the bell-crank arrangement, on which 
a turtle's head works, a most fascinating piece of 
anatomy. It had always been a mystery to me 
before. We cut out hunks of the white meat and 
threw away the rest, and, loading up the canoes? 
prepared to cross the Bar of Tolomita. 

The bar looked horrid. A break in the sand- 
bank and reef enclosing the lagoons allowed the 
Pacific surf to beat into a wide lake, which, though 
deep in the centre, had several unsuspected bars 
and shoals. To add to the joys of crossing, the 
boys pointed out the black fins of sharks cutting 
about in the shoal water, impressing on me, " Son 



38 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

muchos tiburones — que comen hombres " (there are 
many sharks — who eat men). 

Cautiously we set off, and after being rocked and 
tossed sideways by the waves, and soaked to the 
bone, we reached the shelter of the other reef with 
the dugout half-full of water. 

The second canoe was in difficulties and had 
dropped behind about two-thirds of the way over, 
and, when within a few yards of safety, a wave took 
it broadside on, filling it with water. The canoe 
promptly sank. The boy clung to his paddle, and, 
splashing through the water, he soon swam to us, 
his face grey with fear of the sharks, who, as we 
watched, were investigating the scene of the wreck. 
I sat on the bank and cursed, as that canoe con- 
tained all spare food and supplies, a good deal of 
ammunition, and my mosquito net. To recover it 
was impossible ; the water was fathoms deep, full 
of sharks, and possibly alligators. 

To blow off some steam at this calamity, I took a 
casual shot at the spot where I judged some vital 
portion of a shark would be. The bullet splashed 
up the water, and the great fish lurched clear of the 
waves, showing the dead white underside and 
enormous mouth. As he fell back the others made 
a rush for him, attracted by the scent of blood, and 
all around the water bubbled and boiled with the 
fury of the combat 



CROSSING THE BAR 39 

We had now only one canoe and a limited amount 
of supplies. 

I held a commission and investigated what we 
had left, and found that of tinned food we had 
enough for two days on half rations, but no bread 
or starch of any kind, with the exception of a handful 
of corn cobs ; and only one calabash of sweet water, 
enough for a day's journey. 

The ammunition was reduced to about a dozen 
shot-gun cartridges and twenty rounds of rifle 
ammunition apiece. Our revolver belts were, luckily, 
full. 

Reviewing the situation, I decided to push on as 
we were, and try to reach an Indian village that I 
believed to be about two days' journey distant 
through the swamp. The canoe-boys were not 
pleased, but accepted the situation for what it was 
worth, so we repacked the kit and started through 
the unknown channel. 

By midday the heat was terrible, and instead of 
open lakes of salt water connected by streams, we 
were slowly poling away through narrow channels, 
where the water was only a few inches deep, and 
the canoe bottom scraped through the thick mud. 

Every leaf hid mosquitoes and every mangrove- 
root concealed little black and red crabs. When 
we came to a point where the channel was blocked 
by a snag, or fallen tree, and the canoe could go no 



40 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

farther, then it was that we realized the joys of 
swamp travel. We had to disembark, and, with 
machetes, cut a way through the roots, then, waist- 
deep in squirmy black mud, heave, lift, and drag 
the clumsy dugout over the obstacle. At other 
points the turns in the channel were too sharp to 
admit of easy management of the long canoe, and it 
meant half an hour's hard work to negotiate the 
turn. 

I was a mass of insect bites, and all over my body 
the jungle ticks had fixed fast in the flesh. These 
cannot be pulled off without leaving their jaws 
embedded in you and making a festering wound : 
the only way to deal with them is to heat them with 
a hot cigarette-end till they relax their grip, when 
they can then be pulled off clean. 

The shallow shoals were crowded with fish. 
Great pike lay idly basking an inch or two beneath 
the surface, and the rush of the shoals of " lissa " (a 
big edible fish rather like a giant carp) made swirls 
in the water. 

The canoe-boy laid down his pole and, taking up 
a position in the bows of the canoe, lent over, 
machete in hand. A swift slash into the water, and 
a big pike was secured, the blow having broken 
its backbone. In this way half a dozen fish were 
secured, and it was up to me to provide the meat 
course. 



CROSSING THE BAR 41 

Edible game was scarce, but it was now not a 
question of taste but of hunger, and I could not 
afford to be fastidious about the fishy flavour of a 
heron or a crane, although we drew the line at 
eating a fish eagle. 

High over against the sun came a string of 
flamingo-coloured birds, and as they cleared the 
tops of the trees I fired, and the foremost fell amidst 
the swamp-bush. 

Quickly we urged the canoe to the spot, and 
groping our way through the mangrove stems 
collected the game, and then pushed on to find a 
camping-place for the night. 

We came at sunset into a small lake, or pampa, 
of water, where the ground on one side was not 
pure mud, and one or two cocoanut-palms and a 
few ceiba-trees grew amidst the bush. Here we 
decided to camp ; the dugout was beached, and the 
remaining stores carried ashore. A fire was soon 
built and the fish cooked. This process is simple : 
A stick is run through the fish lengthways, and, 
supported on two forked rests, it is slowly turned 
over the fire. In about ten minutes the skin and 
scales were charred to cinders, and the inside was 
beautifully cooked in its own juice. We felt the 
loss of the salt and pepper, but still, that fish was 
glorious eating. 

My pink bird — he was a spoonbill, with lovely 



42 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

salmon-pink plumage, green beak and legs, and 
scarlet eyes — was not a success. We boiled him in 
a pail, and he gave off a large quantity of yellow- 
reddish oil, and fat that tasted and smelt of all the 
most dreadful kinds of fish. The flesh was dark- 
coloured and tough as rubber ; altogether it was a 
most ghastly dish, and even the canoe-boys could 
not eat it. 

The cocoa-palms were a godsend, the great, green 
husks furnishing us with fresh water, or, rather, 
fresh cocoanut -juice. We soon chopped down 
enough to freight the canoe heavily, and were 
relieved of our fear of thirst. 

We had no tents, and so slept in the open. About 
two o'clock in the morning, when the fire had burnt 
low, a deafening crash of thunder woke us all, and 
a fierce wind began to blow through the camp. 
By the light of the fire we hastily covered up 
stores and got things ready. A tropical storm was 
coming. We carried the dugout shoulder high up 
the beach, and used it as a tent to protect ourselves 
and our kit. We were barely in time to get all 
ship-shape before the storm was upon us. 

With a roar of wind the rain came down, and in 
an instant it was as if we were beneath a wall of 
water. The fire was instantly quenched, and the 
darkness was lit by flashes of lightning — not the 
mild display of the temperate zones, but the vicious 



CROSSING THE BAR 43 

fire of the Tropics. The blaze was almost continuous ; 
the flashes came with a hissing crack of their own, 
followed instantly by the deafening crash of thunder. 

We sat there huddled together under the boat, 
while the torrential rain drummed upon the up- 
turned canoe and turned the ground upon which we 
were seated into a marsh ; the temperature changed 
from dry heat to bitter, damp chill. 

The storm passed as suddenly as it had come, but 
we could not light a fire, and so sat shivering 
together waiting for the dawn. 

The remainder of the trip was similar in its dis- 
comforts. I shot birds and alligators and cursed 
the insects. An iguana, or tree-lizard, furnished a 
change in the menu, and was not at all bad eating. 
Finally we reached an Indian settlement. 

These Indians were log-thieves and bandits ; 
nevertheless, they entertained us most hospitably. 
The settlement was composed of about six palm 
huts, the furniture of which was a bed and two 
stools, while the only decoration was a small 
picture of the Virgin of Guadalupe, decorated with 
strips of coloured paper. Before one of these tiny 
altars were two ornaments — two green glass insu- 
lators from a telegraph-pole ! The people were 
miserably poor and ill-clad, and all the live-stock on 
their rancho were a few hens and a couple of mangy 
dogs. They had enormous families of children, 



44 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

though the infant mortality is said to be very 
great. 

Two days later I reached the railroad near Tonala, 
and, striking a construction-camp, had again reached 
civilization, I wrote a nice report on the economic 
resources of the swamp country, and included a 
beautiful map of the trail I had followed. 

The time will come when some European syndi- 
cate will want the timber, and then the Indian 
fisher-folk will vanish. 



CHAPTER VI 

A JUNGLE HUNT 

" You are so keen on hunting in the * monte,* why 
don't you get up to the hills behind Cocoyule and get 
that black tiger they talk about ?" said the owner of 
the saw-mill. 

" Black tiger ?" 

"Yes, black — or, at least, so the natives say. My 
foreman, Sabino, can tell you something about it." 

I left the man of planks and shingles, and, going 
into the yard of his works, hunted up Sabino, who 
proved to be an intelligent native, and, what was 
more, a keen sportsman. 

"The seiior knows the direction of Cocoyule, near 
to Juchitan ? Well, quite near is a ' monte ' that is an 
old ' pueblo ' — an antiqua from whence run traces 
of a paved road right into the sierras ; there can be 
found * el tigre negro ' and much * venado ' (game) of 
all kinds. The senor should go there." 

" How far is it to ride, and what are the trails 
like?" I queried. 

Sabino explained that it was only about a day's 

45 



46 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

ride, and that 1 could get a local guide and supplies 
from the native towns. 

A day later I met an American naturalist at San 
Geronimo, and, as he was interested in the fauna of 
the country, soon asked him if he would care to 
accompany me upon the trip. His time was limited, 
and he could only spare four days, as he had to join 
his boss (a professor of some college) at Tehuan- 
tepec ; but he eagerly availed himself of my offer, 
and set about preparing a mule-load of specimen 
boxes and outfit. 

This man, whose name was Jackson, was a young 
American, and in many ways typical of his nation- 
ality ; he was dead keen on natural history and 
botany, and knew his subjects thoroughly, but was 
completely ignorant of most other matters, and did 
not " mix well " with natives, whom he disliked as 
"coloured," and who regarded him as mad as a 
hatter. I found him a pleasant companion for a four 
days' trip, but could not have stood the close com- 
panionship of the trail with him for, say, a fortnight's 
work. 

Jose, my boy, soon secured horses, and these were 
waiting for us at the little wayside station, and were 
accompanied by their owner, who would act as our 
guide. I carried my -303 Savage, and lent my ball- 
and-shot gun to Jackson, whose armament was 

limited to a revolver and that fearsome cannon — 

7 



A JUNGLE HUNT 47 

the American six-shot repeating shot-gun. These 
weapons are greatly prized by Americans, and are 
remarkable for their weight, wicked balance, and 
enormous noise of the action, which, instead of the 
single " snick " of a respectable English gun, says 
" Snick-clack-clacketty-clacketty-chunk !" — a special 
war-cry of its own — every time the breech is 
operated. 

Travelling was slow, as Jackson was an enthusiast, 
and every lizard, iguana, and evil insect, had to be 
hunted, and, if caught, classified, potted, or rejected, 
and with it a special label had to made out to say 
where, when, and how ; mean barometric pressure, 
and probable winner of the next race ; length from 
nose to tail when alive, when dead ; and what 
it might have grown to, or something of the 
kind. 

He knew little Spanish, and I had to interpret 
for him : he wanted the native name of everything 
in sight. When you ask a native the name of 
any special kind of bird he never knows, but 
remarks, " Es pajarito !" (It is a bird !) He grew 
dissatisfied with Jose, to whom he was a source of 
unending amusement, and it was only my inter- 
ference that prevented the probable printing in a 
scientific brochure of the most unseemly Spanish 
words as the correct names of sundry animals. 

We halted at a small pueblo for lunch and to rest 



48 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

during the heat of the day, and I engaged the 
services of the local native children to dig out an 
iguana, some "ratons" (generic name for any rat- 
like animal), tortoises, and other small fry. We had 
some difficulty in getting the children to understand 
that they were wanted now and would be paid for, 
and soon were rewarded by a visit from the school- 
master. A " peso " to him secured the kiddies a half- 
holiday, and as the news spread that Rothschild and 
another millionaire were in the village paying good 
money for uneatable food, in a few minutes the 
hunt was up. 

Armed with sticks and machetes and assisted by 
all the native curs, the local Boy Scouts took to the 
bush. Jackson was wild to accompany them, but as 
I did not care to chaperone him on the delicate 
subject of snakes, scorpions, and poisonous plants, 
I refused to let him go out in the sun. The school- 
master stayed with us ; he was a very decent Indian, 
a Zapoteco, well educated, and a master of the local 
Indian dialect ; but even he was puzzled by this 
hunting of useless wildfowl. 

Soon the hunt returned, dribbling in in twos and 
threes, laden with specimens — lizards of all kinds, 
a fat grey-black iguana, tortoises, and two or three 
mice, some battered snakes, and the piece de resist- 
ance — a jack rabbit. 

Counselled by the schoolmaster, I distributed vast 



A JUNGLE HUNT 49 

wealth in " centavos " to the fortunate hunters, and 
left Jackson to classify the spoil. 

He did, and suffered much from fleas, for which 
he blamed the jack rabbit. This, by the way, 
turned out to be a hare, and yellower than other 
specimens. The iguana produced lots of fun, as 
Jackson, knowing it was harmless, got familiar with 
it, instead of holding it in a grass noose like the 
natives do. Resenting his handling, it slapped hard 
with its tail, landing him across the face; it then 
scratched badly, and got away, running up a pole 
into the roof 

At last Jackson finished with his zoo, and we 
saddled up to resume the trail. This ran through 
the sandy, reddish scrub country, where all the 
plants and most of the lizards wore spikes, and I 
was able to point out some of the peculiarities of 
insect-hfe to Jackson. One bright device of Nature 
is a thorny tree, a species of acacia, which produces 
two big thorns springing out of a bulb-shaped knob, 
the whole rather like a miniature cow's head. These 
knobs are the homes of a special little ant, reddish- 
yellow in colour, and capable of causing more anguish 
than any other insect of its size. These, if they cross 
your hand, leave a bright red weal, and feel exactly 
like sparks of fire. I explained this to Jackson, who 
immediately experimented on the next bush we 
passed, apparently in order to see how the ants 

4 



so A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

lived inside the knob. He was badly stung, and 
began to appreciate some of the beauties of life in 
the Tropics. 

Late that evening we reached Juchitan, and I at 
once set on foot inquiries about the black tiger 
at Cocoyule. The "jefe" and a local "rurale" had 
heard of its existence, and, after a liberal consump- 
tion of " tepache " (fermented pineapple juice) and 
" tequila," gave me a letter to the headman, ensuring 
to me the goodwill of the local native authorities. 

I laid in a few tins of sardines and food at Juchitan 
from a store kept by a Chinaman, and returned to 
find Jackson ready for his supper. He did not take 
kindly to native food, and being a scientist was 
much impressed by the insanitariness of a genuine 
native town ; also the lizards in the banana-palm 
roof worried him. 

Cocoyule was our next stop, and the " Jefe " proved 
not to be a model of courtesy, billeting us and our 
horses reluctantly. The " tigre negro" existed, but in 
the " monte," and was seldom seen, as he lived among 
the " antiguas " (ruins). I detected hesitancy in his 
manner, and soon found that the beast was a kind of 
local deity, if not entirely fabulous, so I announced 
that we were going to look at the " monte," and was 
successful in raising a native hunter as a guide. 
This man, who answered to the name of "Chato" 
(snub-nose), was clad in a pair of jaguar-skin bathing- 



A JUNGLE HUNT 51 

drawers and armed with a muzzle-loading gas-pipe 
gun. I told Jose to pack what was necessary for a 
night in the jungle, and leaving the rest of the kit 
behind, we started without telling the "jefe " of our 
intention to camp the night amidst the Aztec ruins. 

About two hours before dusk we arrived. The 
ruined city was not visible ; all around were the 
bush-covered hills, without a trace of man's handi- 
work, yet the very mound on which we pitched our 
camp was an Aztec teocalli, and the stream at which 
we got our water was the water-supply of an old 
and vanished city. Chato was not pleased when we 
insisted upon camping there ; he had had his orders 
from the " jefe," but our obduracy and a dollar or two 
bribe quelled his scruples, though he was still rather 
afraid of ghosts. 

Before turning in, Jackson shot one or two birds 
— none of them good to eat — and I killed a "cascabel" 
(rattle-snake) when we were clearing the camp. That 
night, round the camp-fire, I learnt some queer 
hunting facts from old Chato, who explained how, 
when one killed an animal, the head must be buried 
after being offered some water — if not, you would 
spoil your luck. 

We turned in, and, in spite of nets, passed an 
insect-troubled night. 

At the first blush of dawn we were up, and, 
accompanying Chato, followed a winding trail beside 



52 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

the stream for about half a mile. We came upon 
two great monoliths, relics of some Aztec temple or 
house. 

The forest teemed with bird-life, and Jackson was 
with difficulty restrained from shooting; but as I 
was out for jaguar — black, if possible — I did not 
want the neighbourhood scared. 

At last old Chato made a sign to us to halt, and 
we watched his brown body disappear among the 
bush. Soon he reappeared and signalled me to 
follow him. As silently as possible I did so. On a 
boulder near the stream lay a jaguar, apparently 
watching the reeds. As I raised my rifle he rose 
on his fore-feet, but I pressed the trigger, and he was 
bowled over in a wild flurry. Hastily jerking in 
another cartridge, I ran forward, and from a safe 
distance put in another shot that finished him. 

He was not a big beast, being under eight feet 
from tail to nose, but the pelt was in good condition 
and well marked. I skinned him then and there, 
Chato retaining a few portions of his interior 
economy to use as medicines or for food ; but I did 
not follow his advice to cut off the head and bury it 
after offering it a drink ! Perhaps that is why I 
saw no black jaguar, though Chato whispered to me 
that some large tracks we found were undoubtedly 
his. 

The ride back was one of modified triumph. I 



A JUNGLE HUNT 53 

had a jaguar, though not a black one, and Jackson 
was very happy. He had secured an insect, rather 
like a diamond or lozenge-shaped beetle, with a 
joint in its middle. If you put it flat on the palm of 
your hand it would suddenly bend up and straighten 
out with a jerk that would throw it several feet. 
He had found a native child playing with it, and, 
seizing it from the infant, had given the babe half 
a dollar. 

The babe's father came to me hurriedl}^ 

" If that beetle is worth fifty cents, it is worth a 
dollar. Why steal from a babe ?" quoth he, seeing 
hopes of more wealth. 

I had great trouble in explaining that Jackson 
was " muy rico " and " muy loco " (rich and mad), and 
that the bug was worth nothing, but he had been 
pleased to buy it as a kind of medicine ! 

Thoroughly satisfied, the father departed ; but I 
could not help but admire his business capacity. 

I don't think that that bug was as rare and 
unknown as Jackson thought. He promised to 
write and let me know; but he never did, and I 
have since regretted not letting him compile a 
Spanish zoological dictionary as composed by Jose, 
as he carried off" my screw-topped salt and pepper 
box as a receptacle for handy specimens ! 



CHAPTER VII 

A RAILROAD JOURNEY IN SOUTHERN MEXICO 

Having finished my exploration trip on the lagoons 
and acquired a working knowledge of Spanish, I 
decided to leave the State of Chiapas and go up to 
the city of Mexico. Returning to Tapachula, I 
collected my belongings, packed up my hunting 
trophies, and prepared to leave. The railroad from 
Tapachula is the Pan-American line, which joins the 
isthmus route at San Geronimo. The train is 
scheduled to perform its journey in two days, but 
has seldom done so. 

Having made my farewells, I left Tapachula and 
went down to the railroad station, which is situated 
at least a mile from the town. The station is com- 
prised of one brick building — a combined warehouse, 
telegraph station, ticket office, and express office. 
Outside in the roadway are planted heavy wooden 
stakes — hitching-posts for the horses, who stand in 
the sun while their masters and all the local loafers 
gather round the station. They make a picturesque 
scene, the men in their big straw sombreros, smoking 
native cigarettes, while the women chatter and bar- 

54 



A RAILROAD JOURNEY 55 

gain for fruit, eggs, and tortillas; for the railway 
station is, in its lazy way, a small market, where 
the third-class passengers can purchase food for 
the trip. 

The train is already waiting, and reminds one of 
the Buffalo Bill shows of Europe : the old-fashioned 
engine, with its queer funnel and clanging bell (a 
genuine " Baldwin," but of early vintage, finishing 
its last days in the Tropics) ; the Indians and the 
" rurales," all variously armed and accoutred ; the 
passengers ablaze with silver-embroidered pistol- 
holsters and glittering brass cartridges, are all 
reminiscent of the Wild West stories of one's youth. 

The rolling stock is of the long American type, 
and the train is usually a " composite " — passengers 
and freight mixed — while the end is brought up by 
a brilliant yellow express waggon for valuable 
freight and mails. 

The bell clangs, and the conductor shouts 
furiously, telling the passengers to get aboard ; 
so we leave the shade of the station veranda, where 
we have been reading the placards of rewards for 
" wanted " men — murderers and train robbers — 
little bills with a picture of the fugitive, nearly 
always taken in his square-cut sombre Sunday 
clothes, and in big figures above his head the blood- 
money to be paid to anyone delivering him, alive or 
dead, to the Wells Fargo Express Compan}^ 



56 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

The third-class passengers get into one end of a 
passenger coach and the first into the other ; a thin 
partition half-way down separates the classes. The 
thirds have only wooden benches, covered with 
filth, while the first have all the glory of cane seats 
like those on the London electric railways. These 
also are filthy beyond anything in Europe. No 
English workman would care to use the Pan- 
American first-class accommodation for half an 
hour's ride, but we are condemned to have two 
days of it ! The natives take with them a few 
chickens and game-cocks ; dogs and babies are 
plentiful. All these people prefer to squat cross- 
legged on the benches in preference to sitting on 
them. Chairs are unknown in Indian villages. The 
ticket auditor and the conductor go round demand- 
ing tickets, but custom demands that you should 
travel without one and pay the conductor half the 
legal fare. Even with this little perquisite the 
conductor's job is not one that is much sought 
after. 

The heat soon gets unbearable, and the passen- 
gers lie inert on the blistering seats, drinking tepid 
beer, too slack to read or smoke, and almost un- 
conscious of the attacks of clouds of venomous 
mosquitoes and coffee flies. 

All the stations are the same — a brick building 
and a couple of native huts in a little clearing beside 



A RAILROAD JOURNEY 57 

the line, which stretches like a green pathway 
through the jungle. At each stop a crowd of native 
children surround the cars, and rush to sell their 
little baskets of fruit— mangoes, papayas, and zapotes. 
The latter is a queer brown fruit, full of sweet, cool 
pulp, the fruit of the chicle, or chewing-gum tree. 

The journey drones on through the same scenery, 
and the train slows down to cross the little culverts 
and bridges. Everybody looks anxious. You feel 
the bridge sink and tremble beneath you, but the 
train crawls across without its collapsing. The con- 
ductor curses the construction engineers, and tells 
stories of wrecks that have occurred, when the 
sudden rising of the rivers have swept away the 
supports from beneath the bridges. 

We are timed to reach a native town, where lunch 
can be procured at midday ; but a sudden series of 
bumps and rockings, finishing with a terrific jolt as 
the train comes to a standstill, announces that we 
have run off the line. Everyone gets out and goes 
forward to look at what has happened, while the 
natives raise a deafening clamour, and fight to secure 
their bundles of food. The engine is off the line, 
and the tender and first coach are leaning over 
at a dangerous angle. Underneath you can see the 
bent rail torn up from the sleepers, but the powdery 
nature of the wood shows why this has happened. 
The damp earth and the ants have rotted some six or 



58 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

seven sleepers to such an extent that the engine's 
weight had forced the rails apart and caused the 
wreck. 

The heat is merciless, but all hands, train crew, 
natives and passengers alike, turn to, while tools are 
brought, and with infinite trouble the engine is 
jacked up and the track relaid. The sleepers that 
we put under the jack sink into the soft mould, and 
everyone strains at lifting gear, while the stinging 
sweat runs into our eyes, and the mosquitoes bite 
through our thin garments. 

At last the wreck is cleared and the tools stowed 
away, the conductor shepherds the passengers in, 
and after a delay, in order to get up steam, we 
proceed — three hours late. 

The train crawled into a little town where the 
passengers were supposed to feed at a restaurant. 
This splendid and ambitious project — a railway 
restaurant in Southern Mexico — resolved itself into 
a large native hut set with a few tables and forms, 
and superintended by a Chinese hotel-keeper and 
cook. 

The food was appalling and the company worse. 
Foreigners and Mexicans sat together with the train 
officials, the engine-driver and his fireman, black 
with dirt and bedewed with greasy perspiration, 
were not nice table companions, though their table 
manners were worth watching. The meal was 



A RAILROAD JOURNEY 59 

disgusting, though out of the medley of filth at least 
the eggs and the rice were edible. The other dishes 
were seasoned with green peppers and various 
sauces dear to the native palate. As I had not at 
this time acquired the asbestos mouth, common to 
residents in the Republic, it was a long time before 
I could find food — tasteless enough to eat. 

Before we had half finished we were hustled 
away and on board the train. Our driver had been 
slaking his thirst with copious amounts of beer, so 
when I heard him declare he would make up time 

before we got to Tonala, if only the (!) engine 

held together, I regretted that my insurance policy 
did not cover travel overseas. It was dark before 
we reached Tonala. The carriages were provided 
with one lamp apiece; the chimneys of these 
lamps were choked with suicidal insects within a 
quarter of an hour of their being lighted, so in the 
darkness the passengers sat and smoked, while the 
shrill war-song of the mosquitoes sounded above 
the noise of the train. 

Tonala was reached at last. Dead tired, we 
clambered out to take refuge in a corrugated-iron 
hotel. It was a lovely night, the food was iron and 
the beds corrugated, but after the exercise I had in 
the wreck I slept like a log. The servants woke us 
before dawn, for the train was to pull out early. I 
was still very tired, but I did not delay catching the 



6o A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

train, the prospect of two days to wait before another 
train came in — if it ever did — was too heavy a risk. 

We had not got far on our journey before we 
were halted by a construction train in front of us. 
They brought us nice news — all traffic was tempor- 
arily suspended! It appeared that a local Indian 
township had suddenly hit upon a new scheme for 
raising money. The idea was ingenious, and it 
consisted in arresting all the railroad employes 
in their territory for non-payment of taxes, the 
Indian Jefe Politico claiming that, as they were 
within his grounds, they were assessable. The 
local police had arrested the whole of the native 
labour in the construction camp, and were now 
arguing the matter with the white engineers, who 
were making the telegraph wire red-hot with 
appeals to headquarters. We obeyed orders and 
kept outside the trouble zone till the news came 
down the line that all was clear. I heard later that 
the railwaymen had dealt with the matter personally, 
and that the Indian town was rather sore. 

About midday we reached another "railroad 
hotel," and the food was as bad as the last Chinese 
joint, though this establishment was kept by the 
most amazingly well-developed Indian woman I 
have ever seen. She was a cheery hostess, but her 
cooking was frankly impossible. 

The track grew better beyond this point, for 



A RAILROAD JOURNEY 6i 

ballast had been laid between the sleepers. The 
country grew less fertile until we ran into the State 
of Oaxaca, where the land is very much poorer than 
in Chiapas, more resembling the worthless isthmus 
country. Without further incident we reached 
San Geronimo, where the terminal of the line is 
situated, and where the Pan-American joins the 
Tehuantepec railroad system. It was a relief to see 
a real railroad once again, and the English engines 
(the Isthmus road is run by British capital) seemed 
quite home-like. 

San Geronimo is notable by reason of its brewery, 
to which the majority of the first-class passengers 
paid a hasty visit. It says much for American and 
Teutonic enterprise that such a blessed gift as beer 
can be obtained in such an out-of-the-way place. I 
am aware that the above sentiment does not seem 
strictly in accordance with the views of Exeter Hall, 
but in a country where water is pregnant with 
typhoid, and there is little to drink, mild bottled beer 
has saved many lives, as it is about the only pure 
drink one can obtain. 

At dusk the train from Salina Cruz came into the 
station, and I was able to get direct into a Pullman 
sleeping-car, scheduled through to Mexico City. 
The change from the Pan-American system was 
marked. One can have no idea of the exquisite 
luxu'y an ordinary Pullman sleeping-car can afford 



62 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

until one has travelled on a line whose stage of 
development and whose rolling stock is of the 
pattern common in Western America forty years 
ago. 

Two nights and a day in the train, climbing from 
the fertile valleys of the Tropics to the cold plateau, 
and then the drop down into Mexico City, where I 
arrived at eight o'clock in the morning. 



CHAPTER VIII 

LIFE IN MEXICO CITY 

The new-comer's first impressions of the City of 
Mexico are usually rather vague. The traveller 
suddenly leaves the wild country of the Tropics and 
enters a zone of barren mountains ; then, descend- 
ing to a parched plain, arrives in a city which, at 
first sight, seems almost French. 

I have heard Mexico City compared to Paris, to 
Constantinople, to Ispahan, and to Washington. 
Practically speaking, it has not the faintest resem- 
blance to any of them, taken as a whole, but the 
wanderer can find many scenes and groups of archi- 
tecture that seem to have been transplanted bodily 
from any capital you choose to name. 

Mexico is a city of palaces — an architect's paradise, 
and at the same time despair, for the soil is bottom- 
less mud. Foundations are absorbed with such 
rapidity that, if great care is not taken, by the time 
a house is built it has settled till the ground-level is 
higher than the floor. All big buildings are hope- 
lessly out of plumb, and great cracks appear in their 
walls. The frequent earthquakes that shake the 

63 



64 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

valley also tend to distort the buildings in such a 
manner that the big structures of the city have all a 
distinct variation from the perpendicular. 

The earthquakes are a feature of life in Mexico 
City, but you soon get used to them. The first 
earthquake I experienced occurred when I was at 
the top of a three-story building. I was writing at 
a table, when I suddenly felt deadly sick — the same 
feeling that occurs when a lift descends too fast 
Rather concerned, I briefly reviewed what I had 
eaten, imagining that I was plagued with a sudden 
turn of biliousness. 

While still reflecting over the phenomenon, I 
noticed the electric light swinging violently, and the 
true explanation occurred to me. Going to the 
window, I looked out into the street. It was a 
remarkable scene. Men, women, and children had 
rushed out into the open and were praying strenu- 
ously. One of the overhead wires of the tramway 
had snapped, and the end struck out blue flashes as 
it swung against the iron support. Everybody had 
remained exactly as they were when the shock com- 
menced. In a few seconds the motion ceased, and 
they got up from their knees and began to discuss 
the " tremblor." Little damage was done, and the 
incident was only accorded a short paragraph in the 
evening papers. 

Mexico City is essentially cosmopolitan. It boasts 



LIFE IN MEXICO CITY 65 

of clubs for every nationality, and one sees a 
foreigner to every ten Mexicans in its street. The 
big hotels are crowded with tourists, and attract 
as well the enormous brigade of adventurers who 
make Mexico their happy hunting-ground. 

In the lobbies of the uncomfortable American- 
style hotels you will find all kinds of men — the 
specious concessionaire (everybody in Mexico has 
something in the way of a concession, and only 
needs a little capital to be a millionaire), the rubber 
expert or company director, who has come out from 
England and acquired a few hundred acres of jungle 
which he proposes to palm off on the confiding 
British public as suitable for growing rubber, point- 
ing out to the credulous that it adjoins a well-known 
rubber estate, etc. 

If Mexico had to depend on its own products for 
rubber goods, a pair of goloshes would be worth 
many hundred dollars. 

There is a certain station in the south of Mexico 
near which grew a large rubber-tree surrounded by 
jungle. An enterprising photographer cleared the 
surrounding bush, and made a large amount of 
money by producing nominally amateur photographs 
of "Our Director," and "Mr. So-and-so, our 
Manager," standing beneath a natural rubber-tree 
on the company's estate. These nice little groups 
— directors, managers, etc. — backed by mules and 

S 



66 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

white-clad servants in native hats, are a godsend to 
the cheery promoter. 

I hold no shares in Mexican rubber, principally 
because I have been to Mexico and seen the process 
of running a "rubber plant." All that you need is 
an acre or two of rubber carefully raised from seed to 
a height of six feet. If you have more than one acre 
or two acres it costs you so much in labour to keep 
the plantation free of weeds and insects that you lose 
your money, so you keep down to the two acres, and 
sell it and the surrounding land to a company, with 
the help of a " rubber expert." A rubber expert is a 
man who has written something about rubber. The 
degree of rubber expert is self-conferred. There 
are lots of them in Mexico City, who will report on a 
plantation for a five-dollar bill and the price of the 
elaborately headed notepaper necessary. 

Mining propositions are as frequent as rubber 
plants, and sunburnt men with beautiful " speci- 
mens " and assayers' reports await the unwary in 
every hotel bar. However, some of their schemes 
bear fruit. Mining is always a gamble as opposed 
to the certainty of rubber. 

" Land " is the next industry, and a very profitable 
one. All land in Mexico which has no private 
owner who can produce correct title-deeds is the 
property of the Government. Enterprising com- 
panies have bought large tracts of virgin — and mostly 



LIFE IN MEXICO CITY 67 

worthless— land from the Mexican Government. 
Having surveyed and cut this up into lots, it is 
offered at a price well above its value to any indi- 
vidual who wishes to establish a ranch. A ranch 
is an agricultural proposition not necessarily imply- 
ing cattle or horses. You can find sugar ranches, 
hen ranches, and coffee ranches; the latter are 
usually called " finkas," and most of the coffee land 
has been bought up years ago — now it has depre- 
ciated in value. 

An American improvement on the land business 
was the Colonization Scheme, by which emigrants 
were to enjoy a pastoral life in which the ideas of 
the Utopia — the Garden of Eden — were to be prac- 
tically applied, and eventually translate them to 
the Heaven of Millionairedom. Hundreds" of poor 
families were induced to leave the States of the 
Middle West and emigrate to occupy the " desirable 
lots" of the land companies. They found the same 
conditions still prevailed in South Mexico that the 
original settlers in Darien had to contend with. The 
issue was much the same. 

Fever, lack of money, lack of labour (for in that 
country personal field work on the part of the white 
man is impossible), no knowledge of local conditions, 
no help from the treacherous companies, all combined 
to destroy the scheme. Colonization was a failure, 
and the poor broken creatures who had left their 



6S A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

homes in the States to found a new one in Old 
Mexico eventually wandered back, absolutely 
ruined, only the little private graveyards and the 
rusted useless northern field machinery remaining 
in the jungle to show that they had been. 

I have seen sales of "settlers' and homesteads' 
effects " left at one of the Mexican Custom-houses. 
It was terribly pathetic, the big deal packing-cases 
with their poor contents : the little household 
things of the settlers — crockery, babies' clothes, 
packets of seeds, and little home-made things like 
knitted comforters; the family Bible and a few 
books of the Sunday-school type — some of them 
prizes — all carried to the new home in glorious 
Mexico ! 

The land companies are not all bad, but in 
Mexican eyes they must be very similar ; they 
never get prosecuted. 

The respectable foreign residents in Mexico City 
have a saying that nobody comes to Mexico who has 
not been everywhere else first, and that most of 
those who come are not desirable. This is rather a 
hard statement ; but it is not customary to inquire 
into a stranger's past : it is a country of great 
politeness. 

With reference to the British element, most new- 
comers have their station well defined by the nature 
of the position that they occupy and the salary they 



LIFE IN MEXICO CITY 69 

draw in connection with the big British engineering 
and mining firms. But the man who arrives without 
letters of introduction and valuable qualifications 
stands little chance of getting a job. The letters 
themselves are no good ; a letter of introduction in 
Mexico means, " Please give bearer a square meal " 
— nothing more. 

The British paterfamilias has a great habit of 
sending out his offspring, passage paid, with fifty 
pounds and an outfit, to the uttermost ends of the 
earth. This is understood as "practical imperialism," 
the theory underlying it being that barbarous 
countries thousands of miles away will pay large 
salaries to Cecil and Harold for the privilege of 
enjoying their services. The result is that the 
world is dotted with the useless products of our 
public schools and Universities, and for every one 
that "makes good " hundreds fall by the wayside. 

It is dreadful to contemplate the number of decent 
Englishmen belonging to the professional and upper 
middle classes who are to be found earning a bare 
living wage amidst the most appalling surroundings, 
and with no future before them. They can never earn 
enough to support a wife and family, and can never 
be sure of a permanent situation. When I hear of 
Tom and Bill " doing well " in Canada, it calls up to 
my mind a picture of Tom (pass B.A. Oxford !) 
digging in a railroad trench between a Pole and a 



70 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

Swede, while Bill (ex-Lieutenant cavalry) chops 
wood on a small farm. 

The British parent has yet to learn that in the New 
World and the Colonies it is the highly specialized 
expert who earns money, and the fellow who will 
"take any job that he can get" is already represented. 
Sometimes they starve or go to the devil ; more often 
they die lonely deaths — fever, dysentery, and acci- 
dents. Occasionally they live on the boundless 
charity of their fellow-countrymen abroad, but seldom 
do they draw any dividend on their expensive and 
useless education. 

To succeed in Mexico you need special knowledge 
of a trade or profession, a good knowledge of Spanish, 
a sufficiency of capital for your enterprise, and at 
least a year's experience of the country before you 
invest a penny of it. 

There is little social life in the city: it is the 
usual small communit}/- where gossip, scandal, and 
the most recent death form the staple conversation. 
The death-rate is enormous, and illness the rule 
rather than the exception. Outside of the Corps 
Diplomatique, and a few of the older residents 
unconnected with trade, there is no social life. 

On the part of the Mexicans there is no informal 
social life such as one finds in England or the States. 
Mexican ladies spend most of their time in dressing- 
gowns, and are not prepared to receive visitors 



LIFE IN MEXICO CITY 71 

except on State occasions. A call on them is usually 
rather a long process and deadly humorous. 

Having arrived at your destination — a big house 
standing in its own grounds — you ring the bell 
outside, and after a few minutes a sleepy native 
appears. In response to your inquiry whether 
your victims are in, he replies, " Ah ! who can 
tell? I will go and see." He looks at you with 
surly suspicion, and, still leaving you outside the 
locked gate, disappears to the back of the house. 
Five minutes elapse, and then, with much drawing 
of bolts and chains, the front door opens, and a 
butler in plain clothes, hastily dragging on a coat, 
appears and unlocks the garden gate. You are 
escorted inside and led into the " sala " (the draw- 
ing-room), a grotesque apartment, upon which 
much money and no taste has been expended. He 
withdraws and you examine your surroundings. 

The furniture is expensive, probably French, and 
the floor is possibly linoleum, on which side by side 
are a good Persian and an impossible Kidderminster 
rug. There are a few good pictures and valuable 
ornaments, and a host of ghastly photographs of 
the family, and shilling knick-knacks. The chairs 
are arranged all round the walls, and a sofa is at 
the end of the room — this is the seat of honour, and 
to be avoided. 

Eventually your hostess arrives, obviously only 



72 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

just that minute dressed, and finally the whole 
family come down and are presented. The company 
range themselves along the wall and gaze at you 
while you try to make conversation. Calls in 
Mexico are regulated by an elaborate system of 
etiquette, and once in the " sala " you cannot escape 
under the regulation half-hour. The minutes drag 
on and on, and your conversational subjects are by 
now exhausted, principally because your hostess 
has no ideas of conversation beyond " Yes " and 
" No " and " Perhaps — who knows ?" 

At last a servant arrives, bearing the equivalent 
of afternoon tea — cups of thick native chocolate, 
flavoured with cinnamon, and sugary biscuits, some- 
what after the style of meringues. They are also 
things that it is well to avoid. They fall to pieces 
all over you at a touch. 

Mexicans are kindly, hospitable folk, but they 
have the old Spanish traditions, and are conse- 
quently about two hundred years behind modern 
manners. Foreign ladies regard Mexican women 
as hopeless, unless they have been educated abroad. 
Foreign men are liable to blunder when they first 
arrive, as Mexican ladies invariably use a good deal 
of paint and powder, and their native love of colour 
and fine clothes renders it difficult for the foreigner 
to distinguish between the European " demi-mon- 
daine" and the Mexican " haute-monde." 



CHAPTER IX 

"LO," THE POOR INDIAN 

The Mexican Indian is a hard proposition to under- 
stand, and is divided into two distinct classes by 
the Mexicans themselves — "gente de Razon" and 
"cerrados"; that is to say, reasonable people who 
can think and " locked-up ones," with whom it is 
waste of time to argue, as they cannot follow a line 
of thought. 

" Cerrados " preponderate, and it is maddening to 
work with them, as for sheer unadulterated cussed- 
ness and pig-headed stupidity they are beyond 
competition. Suppose you are in camp about 
twenty miles from a big township, and natives 
carrying on their backs big loads of pottery are 
passing along your trail daily. For some reason 
you need pottery, so you stop a laden native and 
propose to buy part or all of his stock for a much 
higher price than he will get in the town. The 
Indian refuses to sell, pleading that "no es el 
costumbre " (it is not the custom). You can talk till 
you are blue in the face, pointing out the advantages 
of selling for a higher price, the lightened load, and 

73 



74 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

the obvious soundness of the scheme, but never a 
pot will he sell, because he is absolutely unable to 
think in logical sequence. In the end he does not 
want to think, and so, without moving a muscle of 
his face, he first sponges out all trace of expression 
and remains smiling or sulky, his face and eyes an 
absolute blank. To get good work out of these 
people needs infinite patience and tact — in fact, it is 
just like training a wild animal. 

Their ideas as to proportion and distance are 
hopeless; they seem incapable of expressing any 
idea of distance — for instance, a five-mile journey 
may be described as " cerca " (near by), " muy lejo " 
(very far), " un pedacito " (a little step), or '• todavia 
falta algo " (it still want some). The despair of the 
anxious stranger confronted with unknown distances 
and trails, and dependent upon native information, 
is absolutely bottomless. 

In order to ensure a certain amount of accuracy, 
the Government have ordered lists of distances to 
be put up in all the local prefectures ; these tables 
are always very full and hopelessly inaccurate. 

Superstition is still rampant, and everywhere 
survivals of paganism occur. Although nominally 
a Catholic country, the Indian Catholicism is purely 
a form of idol-worship, and, in spite of prohibitions, 
clay gods are to be found side by side with pictures 
and shrines to the Virgin in most of the native 



" LO," THE POOR INDIAN 75 

churches, while sacrifice and propitiation of local 
deities take many forms. 

The passing of Halley's comet caused a wave of 
reversion to paganism among the natives, and often 
sacrifices were made secretly outside the church. 
I myself came across one such offering. Upon a 
tortilla spiked to the ground with agave thorns lay 
the head of a white cock and its heart, the latter 
transfixed with a thorn. Round the tortilla was 
arranged in a circle the intestine of the sacrifice, 
and near by was a gourd of water. 

Often during the time of the comet white resi- 
dents in the Mexican interior saw the natives 
leaving for the secret groves in the bush where the 
ceremonies were to be held. The men wore plumed 
head-dresses and were painted like skeletons with 
white clay, and all night the mysterious ceremonies 
continued, but no white was allowed to witness 
them. Afterwards queer stories of missing children 
were current, and it is an undoubted fact that two 
girls were sacrificed to the alligator gods of the 
lagoons. 

Nowhere do the old superstitions hold so 
strongly as in the death and burial rites ; these are 
openly pagan and " los Muertos." All Souls' Day — 
the feast of the dead — is one of the greatest festivals 
of the year. The markets are crowded with booths, 
selling sweets shaped like skulls and coffins, and 



'je A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

an endless variety of baked clay and pasteboard 
horrors, skull and skeleton pins, etc. These are 
for the children, to remind them of death, but are 
really symbols of the old worship of Teomique, 
the Goddess of Death. 

All day during the feast the people go out to 
picnic in the Dolores Cemetery, where they lay 
out tables adorned with skulls, candles, and holy 
water, and, dressed in sombre black, enjoy a picnic 
upon their relatives' graves. 

Funerals among the natives are great " fiestas," 
and one of the most striking sights of Mexico City, 
for the Dolores Cemetery is connected up by tram, 
and all funerals must be carried by the electric car 
route. These motor-hearses are imposing black- 
canopied trucks, with a table for the coffin, and are 
followed by a special car, provided free for the 
mourners. For expensive funerals and children, 
white hearses and cars can be obtained ; but the 
black ones are usual, and can be seen every day. 
They are nicknamed "cucaruchas" (cockroaches), 
or burying beetles, by the cheerful natives, and, 
indeed, the sight of these hearses travelling at 
about thirty miles an hour does little to suggest 
the dignity of death. 

Children are sometimes laid out in state upon 
a board, dressed in white cerements, and rouf;ed 
and painted to resemble life, festooned in flov^ers 



'' LO," THE POOR INDIAN tj 

and gilt paper. They are carried to the grave, put 
into coffins in which tortillas, money, and possibly 
little charms have been stowed, then buried while 
rockets are fired to heaven by the mourners to 
announce the departure of the child-soul. 

After all, Mexicans set little value on life, and a 
funeral party resembles for cheerfulness a blend 
of picnic and of Irish wake, and middle-class 
graves are only hired for seven years; after that 
the deceased is dug up and his bones stowed in 
a cellar, while the grave is let to someone else. 
Probably, as corpses are usually buried in evening 
dress, or in their best clothes, they think that with 
the burial and an occasional picnic on the grave, 
the deceased is having as much notice taken of 
him as is necessary. 

Native medicine men and women keep up the old 
superstition, and are great students of astrology and 
successful in defeating the evil spells of witches. 
Toothache is cured by applying a patch of snake- 
skin or prepared black plaster to the temple, and 
filthy brews of various herbs and insects are taken 
for all known diseases. Moles and bats and por- 
tions of the smaller animals are much in demand 
for anaemia and love-philtres, while weird amulets 
and spells may be purchased to defeat the evil-eye 
or cure the spells of witches. 

Witchcraft is universal, and may be divided into 



7$ A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

two classes — good and evil. White, or good 
witches, influence the local weather and cure 
cattle ; they also tell you when to plant seeds and 
at what time of the moon to transplant seedlings. 

Black witches, however, poison and bewitch 
cattle, overlook children, and blight the crops, 
besides setting spells on objects of their dislike, 
causing them to waste away. 

One victim of witchcraft that I saw was really 
suffering from an advanced case of phthisis; 
another, a coachman, whose horses had been be- 
witched, had tied up their heads in red flannel. 
He was dismissed when this artistic effort was dis- 
covered by his irate master, who did not believe 
in the anti-witch efficacy of red flannel. 

Scattered all over the Republic are vast family 
estates controlled from a large headquarters, called 
the hacienda. These are the equivalent of the 
castles of feudal times, and the whole atmosphere 
of the estate is feudalism pure and simple. 

The haciendas themselves are enormous historic 
buildings of adobe and stone, and bear everywhere 
the mark of ecclesiastical influence. With walls 
whose thickness reminds one of grey Norman keeps 
among the English uplands, and their vast court- 
yards and chapels, endless passages of ill-lighted 
rooms, and clusters of farm-sheds and offices, the 
whole swarming with dependents and retainers, 



"LO," THE POOR INDIAN 79 

one is transported at once into a medieval atmo- 
sphere, where the greatness of the " patron " and 
the word of the priest control all human interests, 
lay and spiritual. 

The very scent of the air is a blend of farm 
smells and incense, and within the hacienda every 
room has its shrine to the Virgin, and in the evening 
tolls the clanging chapel bell. The peons who 
work the hacienda land work on peculiar terms — 
they own no free land, not even the patch on 
which they build their huts ; all is lent to them, 
and each man has to work for the hacienda for an 
allotted number of days ; on others they work 
their own small patch. 

The village shop — no competition is allowed — is 
the property of the hacienda, and there the peon 
must buy everything, even the bare necessities of 
life. At some haciendas the principle still obtains 
of paying the people no money, but allowing them 
credit at the store. This plan is popular, as it makes 
the men virtually slaves, and the hacienda is sure of 
effective labour supply, particularly 'as the "ventena" 
— the ranch police — have plenary powers, and, like 
everything else, belong to the hacienda. 

The whole system is a marvel of Christianity, 
economy, and feudal organization. The Indians 
have to pay in kind for the ground they till, as well 
as working perpetually for the hacienda for its rent ; 



8o A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

thus the proprietor, the haciendado, lives fatly and 
does nothing except distribute through his agent 
and his underlings a very little charity, and carefully 
selected education. It is all most feudal — and most 
damnable. 

The haciendado is the local deity and can do no 
wrong, so under him flourish all the beauties of the 
old feudal system, which the English nation abolished 
with Magna Charta and a Reformation, yet the 
people who do these things are often gentlemen — 
natives educated in Europe and frequently related 
to quite good Spanish families. Personally they are 
kind and hospitable, yet the hacienda evil goes on, 
and they are content to let it be as it is, and wonder 
why it is that revolutions happen. 

Apart from this state of oppression and servitude, 
the life of the natives at the better regulated of the 
haciendas is not so bad. All their industry is centred 
in the hacienda, where wheelwrights, smiths, copper- 
smiths, millers, carpenters, masons, and other trades 
are continually employed. 

Fiestas and saints' days are regularly observed as 
holidays, and then the peons show the lighter side 
of their nature, and turn out the local musicians for 
a " baile," or dance. Some of these dances are sur- 
vivals of religious or historical ceremonies, and are 
danced in the most fearsome of carved masks, 
decorated with horns, tufts of hair, and teeth. These 



"LO," THE POOR INDIAN 8i 

masks are communal property, and on certain saints' 
days a set form of dance, representing the stalking 
and killing of various animals, such as the stag and 
the jaguar, is carried out as a means of expiating 
vows to the special saint whose day it is. 

The ceremony is much debased, and usually ends 
in more or less of an orgie, as the hard work makes 
the dancers thirsty, and the drink increases their 
licentiousness. For this reason the local authorities 
do not welcome the attendance of strangers at these 
functions. 

Dancing at these " bailes de hacienda " is a thorough 
process. All weapons must be discarded and left in 
charge of the cloak-room keeper, though the stranger 
will be well advised to keep a small but loaded 
weapon of some kind concealed about him, leaving 
the larger and more obvious revolver and belt at the 
gate. Inside the baile shed is congregated the local 
populace, old and young; the men in their best charro 
suits and the girls in their finest rebosos. The 
musicians are usually a fiddler or two, helped out by 
exponents of weird local tom-toms and flutes. In 
the far South marimbas played by four players are 
the local equivalent for the Pink Hungarian Band. 

The music is mixed : barbarous Mexican national 
airs and the ever-present " Viuda Alegre " (" The 
Merry Widow "). This tune haunted me from Fez in 
North Africa to the southernmost parts of Mexico, 

6 



82 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

where it had just become the rage when I arrived, and 
to its irritating strains I have watched dances of all 
kinds and more weird versions of the waltz than ever 
its composer is likely to see. 

Men and maidens dance in pairs opposite one 
another, executing the difficult and intricate Spanish 
dances — La Jota and the Bolero — with wonderful 
grace ; while at intervals a Tropic version of the 
waltz is danced. The fiery Mexican blood leads to 
trouble over partners, and it is no uncommon thing 
to see a quarrel end fatally, both parties resorting 
to the use of the knife, over some real or fancied 
slight at one of these bailes. 



CHAPTER X 

FANTASTIC FOOD 

One of the most fascinating things in the world is 
exploring other people's cookery ; but it takes nerve 
to plunge into a gastronomic voyage of exploration 
in Mexico. 

Of course, the staple food is the tortilla, and the 
seasoning for everything is chilli and garlic. If 
there was a failure in the chilli crop the Mexican 
nation would take cold and die in a month. 

One day, when I was properly acclimatized to 
chillies, I asked a Mexican student to take me out 
to a genuine dinner of native food. He was 
absolutely horrified at my passion for low life ; but 
eventually seeing prospects of causing me acute 
anguish and possibly nausea, consented, specifying, 
however, that we should not feed at a restaurant, 
but off itinerant hawkers in the streets, and at low 
eating-houses. 

The first treat was " enchiladas," a weird confec- 
tion of cheese, garlic, and onion, and a liberal dose 
of chilli sauce, the whole enclosed in a neatly folded 
tortilla. The ancient dame who sold these was a 

83 



84 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

mass of rags, and apparently spent most of her time 
sitting over her brazier — a bucket of live coals with 
a tin plate on top — peacefully slumbering. Ruth- 
lessly friend Pascual woke her, and she started in 
to do business. 

Wishing to ascertain if the stove was in going 
order, she spat on top of it, and, instantly reassured 
by a gratifying sizzle, planked down on the plate 
two ready prepared enchiladas, which she warmed 
up for us. 

Pascual had his eye on me, and I was too proud 
to draw back — I ate that enchilada. Really it was 
not so bad, but I could not help thinking what a 
splendid qualifying examination it would make for 
a professional fire-eater. Gasping from the heat of 
the pepper, I demanded drink : " Pulque !" said 
my inexorable custodian — "you must have some 
pulque." 

Pulque was not known to the inhabitants of the 
Old World ; if it had been, it would have been in- 
cluded among the plagues of Egypt; it still is one 
of the plagues of Mexico. This liquor is the fer- 
mented juice of the maguey plant, and is brought 
into Mexico City every morning by train-loads. 

All round the city are the endless fields of maguey s 
planted in rows. These plants are known in Europe 
as "century plants," because they so seldom flower; 
when they do, they send up a huge spike like a 



FANTASTIC FOOD 85 

hop-pole, which if left bursts into a blaze of clustered 
blossom at the top. To energize this wonderful 
efflorescence the plant lies quiet for several years, 
and when it is about to commence, the pulque- 
gatherer cuts a hole about eight inches in diameter 
in the base of the plant, utilizing the stored energy 
of the plant to produce the pulque liquor. In this 
hole the juice collects ; it is called " agua-miel," and 
resembles honey-water with a bitterish after-taste. 
A peon collects this by sucking it up into an 
"acojote" (a flask-shaped gourd), the thin neck of 
which he pushes into the juice while he sucks a 
hole in the bottom of the flask. 

From the gourd it is put into a goat-skin, which 
he carries on his back, and transferred to the pulque 
hacienda, where it is put into tubs and fermented by 
the addition of a specified quantity of already sour 
pulque and rennet, which, as a rule, is solemnly 
blessed by the priest before addition. 

Rennet, be it known, is sour, putrid cow's stomach, 
and the resulting properly fermented pulque is the 
most revolting drink. 

The scent of the stuff is awful, like the worst 
kinds of cheese blended with the sour alcoholic 
scent of stale bar-rooms. 

All pulquerias, or saloons, where it is sold, reek 
of it, and all peons love it and smell of it too. A 
pulqueria is the dreariest drinking-booth in the 



86 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

world. Imagine a single room with no windows, the 
walls painted with the name of the saloon, " El 
Azteco" or "La Reforma de la Constitucion " — 
anything inappropriate and in many cases Biblical, 
such as "El Sagrado Corazon de Jesu." The 
decorations are strings of paper ribbons and rows 
of jugs and glasses. There are no seats, no comfort, 
and such is the cheapness of the liquor that the 
peon can get properly drunk for threepence. Men, 
women, and children all drink this filth, and will 
pawn or steal anything to get it. 

Pulque is responsible for nine-tenths of the crime 
in Mexico City, but as the shares of the pulque 
trust are held by the leading officials, it will be long 
before it is abolished. 

We drank pulque — it was beastly, and I had to 
confess that Pascual had scored. 

Undeterred by this temporary defeat, we prose- 
cuted our search, and turned into a native eating- 
house in the San Lazaro quarter. Our entry caused 
a sensation, but I explained the reason of my pres- 
ence, and became painfully popular. Advice was 
showered upon us, and the wife of the restaurant- 
keeper even went to the length of providing a piece 
of cotton as a table-cloth. I inquired if they could 
procure axolotl, and saw Pascual wince, for these 
are newts, a special kind of water-lizard that only 
lives among the waterways of Xochimilco. 



FANTASTIC FOOD 87 

A boy was hastily despatched to the market, but 
luckily returned empty-handed — axolotl were off. 

We started in on " huevos y arros " — eggs and 
rice. This is a typical Mexican dish, and is really 
excellent, though the rice is seasoned with dried 
shrimps, and frequently produces the worst kind of 
ptomaine-poisoning. Then came the staple Mexican 
dish, " frijoles " (brown beans served in a thick 
glutinous brown sauce flavoured with cheese, and 
eaten by scooping them out on to a toasted tortilla). 
Forks are not used ; one lifts the frijole dish to one's 
mouth and from it one scoops the tortillas. It is 
bad manners to speak or put it down before 
finishing it, but as much noise is made with the 
mouth as possible — this shows you like it. 

As a crowning delight, "mole de guajalote" was 
served. For this dish, turkey and chilli sauce, a 
Mexican will commit murder. I am almost inclined 
to think it worth while, for the combination is 
delightful, particularly in a climate where nothing 
in the way of meat is tender. 

Pascual was pleased with my approval of Mexican 
dishes, but rather grieved that I had not suffered 
more; but he excused this by saying that none of 
these dishes were really "piquante," and he pro- 
ceeded to chew green pepper as hot as the edge of 
the Pit to prove it. 

On a later expedition I consumed such weird 



88 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

delicacies as " tortuja steak " (turtle meat) and 
baked armadillo; but these are only for Mexican 
epicures, they are not the food of the peons. 
Frijoles, tortillas, green corn, and sugar-cane as a 
treat, are his staple. 

Meat is a rarity, and hot meals come but seldom 
during the month ; this possibly accounts for their 
lack of energy and doubtful power of resistance to 
disease, for the vegetarian white man is an even 
easier prey to disease in the Tropics than even the 
heavy flesh-feeder ; it is always the moderate people 
who survive. 



CHAPTER XI 

AZTECS AND RUINS 

When you first project going to Mexico you natur- 
ally begin to think about the Aztecs, and, as a rule, 
confuse them and Cortez, Drake, and the Incas of 
Peru into a vague blend of sixteenth-century Latin- 
American romance. Eventually you separate out 
Cortez and the Aztecs as genuinely Mexican, and 
comfort yourself with the idea that when you get 
there you will know all about them. As a matter 
of fact you only learn about Cortez, because nobody 
knows anything about the Aztecs. 

Once upon a time there were some Aztecs, but 
that was only just before the Conquest, and they 
were merely a military tribe — certainly not the 
people who are responsible for the vast^prehistoric 
ruins that cover all Mexico and Guatemala. Now- 
adays " Aztec " remains is the name given to all 
these monuments of a bygone civilization, which 
were really built by the Toltecs. This word 
" Toltec" is nearly as bad as "Aztec," because nobody 
knows who the Toltecs were, except that they pre- 
ceded the Aztecs! Authorities differ and advance 

89 



90 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

theories, but nobody knows definitely whether 
these so-called Toltecs were the aboriginals of the 
Mexican plateau, whether they were the original 
of the Aztec race, whether they came from the 
North or the South, or whether they ever existed 
at all ! The latter theory is now popular, several 
scientists having proved that the vanished Toltecs 
are as fabulous as their gods; but no one knows 
who built the ruins ! For the plain person who is 
content to call these people " Aztecs " and avoid the 
archaeologists, there is any amount of interest in 
the Aztec question. 

From Mexico City to far Yucatan the country 
is studded with their temples and "teocalis," or 
pyramids. These were originally large mounds of 
clay and adobe bricks, built in terraces ; but as the 
Spaniards wrecked all the temples and forbade the 
religion, they are now, unless in tourist localities, 
mere scrub and tree-covered hills amid the jungle. 

The fanaticism of the priests destroyed all the 
popular up-to-date temples where the Mexicans 
were still carrying on paganism, but luckily they 
did not bother to destroy the prehistoric temples 
that had been abandoned and were no longer 
popular; apparently, as they were not used they 
were not dangerous. 

Having decided that nobody knows who built 
the temples and initiated the worship of Quetzal- 



AZTECS AND RUINS 91 

coatl (the Morning Star), we get to when were 
they built ? This point is still doubtful, but we 
get more help from the fact that these Aztecs had 
invented a calendar, and with it dated most of 
their monuments. Unfortunately they have left 
no reliable record of when they started this calen- 
dar — no zero, no year One. Around this calendar 
the whole of Aztec civilization revolved. Every 
day, every hour had its name and its special deity 
and significance, and all the spiritual and adminis- 
trative life of the Empire was regulated by this 
marvellous system. The year was 260 days long, 
and was divided up into twenty names, or day 
signs, each of which occurred thirteen times during 
the year : thus, January the first might be Flower- 
day the fourth, and January the second Wind-day the 
second. You would not come across another Flower- 
day till somewhere in the middle of February. 

Briefly, every day had its special name and 
number, the names or signs for the days being : 



I. 


Cipactli, the Crocodile. 


12. 


Mallinalli, the Twisting 


2. 


Eecatl, the Wind. 




Herb. 


3- 


Calli, the House. 


13- 


Acatl, the Reed. 


4- 


Cuetzpalin, the Iguana. 


14. 


Ocelotl, the Jaguar. 


5- 


Coatl, the Snake. 


15- 


Cuanhtii, the Eagle. 


6. 


Misquitzli, the Skeleton. 


16. 


Cozcacuahtli, the Vulture. 


7- 


Mazatl, the Stag. 


17. 


Olin, the RoUing Ball. 


8. 


Tochtii, the Rabbit. 


18. 


Tecpatl, the Flint. 


9. 


Atl, the Water. 


19. 


Cuianitl, the Rain. 


10. 


Istzquintli, the Dog. 


20. 


Xochitl, the Flower. 


II. 


Ozomatli, the Monkey. 







92 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

The actual civil year consisted of 365 days, so 
the 260 calendar overlapped into next year by 105 
days, and they were not aware of Leap Year ; the 
result was that the feasts were always getting 
badly mixed, and New Year's Day was as mov- 
able as our Easter. The Aztecs occasionally 
missed out a bit of time in order to catch up and 
straighten things up, but as they left no record of 
these calculations all their dates are no use, and 
cannot be calculated out in ordinary years. But it 
is assumed that the earliest known monuments at 
Palenque date from a.d. 700 to a.d. 800. 

A few codices, or Aztec books, are still preserved, 
and some of these have with them translations 
done into Aztec speech by Spanish monks, but 
written in Roman characters ; thus we know some- 
thing of Aztec theology and tradition. 

All Aztec writing was picture-writing, and the 
codices are long books of leather, or agave paper, 
covered with a wonderful series of coloured con- 
ventional pictures. 

The Aztec, or native, languages are still current 
in Mexico, and they are not in the least alike in 
words or pronunciation, and exceed some eight 
hundred known languages exclusive of local 
dialects ! 

Most of them, however, have very limited vocab- 
ularies, and depend upon inflections of the voice. 



AZTECS AND RUINS 93 

As theorists are for ever identifying the Aztecs 
with the Chinese, the ancient Egyptians, survivors 
of Atlantis, Mongohan Tartars, and the lost tribes 
of Israel, they have no difficulty in picking a few 
words out of most of the eight hundred languages 
and proving that their theory is correct. Personally 
I am on the side of the natives, and say with them, 
" Quien sabe ?" 

Dead cities in the jungle are only good for the 
archaeologist or the hunter, and much more satis- 
faction is to be got out of a well-known place, 
easily accessible and properly explained. 

Teotihuacan is only a few miles from Mexico 
City, not particularly tourist-ridden, and accessible 
by railroad, where are the two great pyramids of 
the sun and moon, the remains of the citadel and 
the Road of the Dead. 

The two pyramids are now scrub-covered and 
somewhat disappointing, though the sun pyramid 
contains a little stone chamber ; from the top a 
good view of the plain is commanded, and all 
round one can see the traces of a once populous 
city, now nothing but little mounds of earth. The 
Road of the Dead, a causeway over a mile long 
and about seventy paces wide, is still guarded on 
either side by ramparts of pedregal lava stone, on 
which are the remains of little houses and tombs. 
These have all been rifled of their relics ; but 



94 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

plenty are still for sale, for the Indians seldom 
plough a field or dig the foundations of a house 
without finding quantities of little clay Aztec heads 
and pottery. 

Good genuine specimens can be purchased in 
Teotihuacan village, though occasionally frauds are 
palmed off upon the unwary, as the natives possess 
moulds — themselves antiques — from which they 
turn out modern replicas of the originals. 

In the big towns and in the city quantities of 
faked antiques are for sale, but they are easily 
detected, being for the most part clumsily made ; 
at the same time, really good curios of all kinds can 
be picked up dirt-cheap in the pawnshops and the 
Thieves' Market — this health resort, though nothing 
to do with Aztecs, is well worth a visit, as good 
Aztec curios can be found there, as well as more 
modern but more valuable prizes. At one corner 
of the Zocalo is this Thieves' Market, where upon 
stalls is laid out the most tempting array of old 
junk that the mind of the curio-hunter can conceive : 
armour, swords, curios, saddlery, sewing-machines, 
pictures, pottery, flat-irons, and junk. One can 
buy anything from a steam-engine to a second-hand 
teething-ring at knock-down prices, but it means 
hard and determined haggling, and never give more 
than half the price demanded. 

The Indians are clever at faking curios ; one tried 



AZTECS AND RUINS 95 

to sell me a spear — "late property of Cortez el 
Conquistador!" — a beautiful weapon that looked 
remarkably deadly and medieval. It was composed 
of the point of a modern bayonet set into the 
inverted conical base of a brass candlestick, the 
whole mounted on a brass nail-studded spear-shaft. 

He was not in the least abashed when I discussed 
the manufacture of the weapon with him, but he 
gave me a valuable insight into what people who 
should know better will buy to take home. 

It is sometimes useful to know of a curio-shop 
where prices are moderate and the goods really 
genuine ; one at least I can recommend, and that is 
the •' Aztec " Curio Store, corner of Gante. The 
owner is a keen antiquary, and trades direct with 
the natives, encouraging them to keep to the old 
Aztecs' methods of dyeing and weaving Zerapes 
and to eschew aniline dyes. The result is that his 
goods are sound and durable, where the cheap 
machine-made stuff will never stand wear, sunlight, 
or washing. 



CHAPTER XU 

ARMS AND THE ARMY 

The Mexican army is recruited from the criminal 
classes, officered from the lower middle and equipped 
by the upper; the result is sublime comic opera 
varied by touches of tragedy. 

When a person has committed a few prominent 
crimes of violence and the local " jefe politico " can 
extort no more money from the malefactor's relations, 
the " jefe " is forced to adopt the last resort, and sends 
him to join the battalion for a term of years, thus 
ridding the " pueblo " of his presence and relieving 
the feeling of law-abiding citizens by encouraging 
patriotism. 

The strength of the standing army was fixed at 
30,000 men, backed by a reserve of 28,000 and a 
second reserve of 150,000. These were divided 
into 1 20,000 foot, 20,000 cavalry, and 6,000 artillery, 
no provision being made for transport, ammunition, 
and supply columns, such matters as transport and 
commissariat being solved by the process of com- 
mandeering and living on the country. 

The whole arrangement of the War Department 

96 



ARMS AND THE ARMY 97 

was splendidly Mexican. At the top were eminent 
generals, whose war service dated from the revolu- 
tionary days ; below them came a crowd of well- 
taught young officers who had been cadets at St. Cyr 
or West Point, and studied at European war schools. 
The cadets at Tlalpam were taught the goose-step, 
but the men v^ere armed with " Porfirio Diaz " 
rifles— a single shot, native-made, bastard Remington ^ '' ,^j^ 
action— firelock ! Some of the better battalions '^ 
were equipped with 1901 7-millimetre calibre 
Mausers, but were never taught to use them 
properly. The artillery were nominally equipped 
with Schneider-Canet mountain guns of a very 
modern type, but more often than not old-fashioned 
Krupps and obsolete black -powder Armstrongs 
were the real weapon. As for the machine-guns, 
they embraced every pattern and every cahbre 
from the mitrailleuse of 1870 to the five-barrelled 
American i-inch bored Catling, from hopper-fed 
Hotchkiss volley-firers to modern Maxims; but 
there was no standard weapon and little efi'ective 
ammunition reserve. 

It is often stated that the Mexican army is equipped 
with the Mondragon automatic rifle, and "gun- 
sharps " in Europe were interested to hear how the 
automatic behaved under real service conditions. 
I have often been asked about it, and take this 
opportunity of explaining once and for all that none 

7 



98 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

of the troops were armed with the Mondragon. 
This rifle, which I had the privilege of examining, is 
not automatic — that is to say, gas or recoil operated ; 
its only approach to this is that by setting the " safety 
bolt" to a certain position, the mere closing of the 
bolt fires the cartridge without any touching of the 
trigger, the inventor's idea being to secure a 
volume of rapid fire for unaimed use at close 
quarters. 

The cartridge used in the Mondragon is peculiar, 
consisting of a square-shouldered, rimless cartridge 
into which the conical bullet of '22 calibre is deeply 
sunk. The whole design of the rifle is bad, though 
interesting from the point of view of novelty. It 
has no good points of design, ballistics, or practi- 
cability to recommend it, being, as it is, in every way 
a good ten years behind modern European practice. 

The mounted Gendarmerie are armed with a queer 
repeating carbine, made by Piepers of Liege. It has 
revolving chambers like a revolver and a wood- 
encased barrel. The whole action is similar to a 
double-action side-ejecting revolver, but it is a 
splendid weapon for police use, the calibre (about 
•38) making it an efficient stopping weapon, and the 
low velocity and slight penetration enabling it to be 
used in streets without danger to the occupants of 
dwelling-houses. The police also carry the frontier 
pattern Colt revolver of "44 calibre, though the 



ARMS AND THE ARMY 99 

officers of the army are armed with the '38 automatic 
Colt. 

When on trek, Mexican soldiers are accompanied 
by their women-folk — " the soldaderas." These are 
responsible for the comfort and feeding of their men, 
and carry along with them bundles of tortillas, and 
wretched fowls slung head downward to their 
girdles. They are expert thieves, and are not 
popular with the country-folk. 

The most striking force in Mexico are the Rurales, 
the celebrated Rural Police. After the Maximilian 
troubles the country was overrun with bandits, and 
as the forces of law and order could not cope with 
them, Diaz called many of the leaders together and 
suggested that they should be organized into a 
mounted police, something on the lines of the English 
irregular colonial forces. They were promised good 
pay and a free hand, and realizing the benefit they 
joined at once. 

It took but a little time to eliminate "bando- 
lerismo," and soon the roads were safe. The Rurales 
do not often take prisoners ; the latter always 
attempt to escape and are always "shot while 
escaping." Discipline of an irregular kind is perfect, 
and the Rurale is honest and reliable, but a bad man 
to quarrel with. The uniform is a modification of 
the picturesque " charro " costume of the native 
vaqueros, and consists of a short jacket of grey 



100 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

cloth, tight-fitting trousers to match, silver-braided 
facings, and silver-braided grey sombreros, bearing 
the initials of their State. They are armed with 
Remington carbines carried slung across the back, 
Colt revolvers, loose over the right hip, and a machete 
attached to the saddle. 

The saddle is of the usual Mexican type. This 
varies according to the part of the Republic in the 
shape of its horn, but always maintains the same 
structural characteristics. To a wood frame carved 
from the solid, panels are attached, and the whole 
covered with cured raw hide, making a clumsy but 
very strong and heavy tree. Between the panels is 
left a wide space to accommodate the horse's withers, 
and the whole tree is covered in housings of carved 
leather and fitted with wide stirrup-leathers (adjust- 
able by laces), ending in clumsy leather-covered 
wooden stirrups (" tapaderos "). 

Behind the cantle are carried two wallets, and all 
metal-work and bosses are of silver. The cinches, 
or girths, of which there are two, are made of plaited 
horse-hair, as are the bridle and picketing rope. 
The lariat is usually raw hide or manila, and is 
carried round the horn or pommel. 

Mexican spurs and bits are always of blued steel, 
inlaid with silver, and very large and severe in 
appearance. Actually they are not at all cruel, 
because the horses are ridden more by bridle-rein 




A COLONEL OF RtJEALES 



ARMS AND THE ARMY loi 

than on the mouth, and as the saddles are so cum- 
brous, no leg pressure can reach the horse, so a 
long spur is necessary. A good pair of Mexican 
spurs should ring to the same note, and really good 
ones are worth much money — four or five pounds 
being by no means an unusual price to pay. 

A European horseman will find the Mexican 
saddle abominable, it needing an entirely different 
seat to that to which he is used. To ride for long 
on one means great discomfort, as the seat is 
usually too wide for one's fork, and the stirrups so 
narrow as to only partially admit the European 
boot. The English saddle is of little use in mountain 
country, as, having only one girth,' it moves forward 
and backward upon inclines. The best pattern is a 
good American double-cinch stock saddle, weighing 
about thirty-six pounds. 

The extra weight is distributed about the horse's 
withers, and is easier for him than the best English 
models, besides seldom, if ever, causing sore backs. 



CHAPTER XIII 

ART AND THE NATIVES 

One of the most remarkable things about the 
Mexican is his wonderful artistic bent. From the 
earliest days sculpture, painting, and music have 
flourished, and marvellous jewellery and pottery 
have been made by uncultured Indians. 

In the Maya monuments of Yucatan expression 
has been converted into a most cast-iron symbolism. 
For instance, the sign for jaguar has been reduced 
to a jaguar's ear with the unmistakable rosette 
spot. It is astonishing, but there is nothing more 
wonderfully expressive than just this ear; it strikes 
you at once, and is absolutely unmistakable. They 
seem to have started on lines similar to the 
Futurists and Post-Impressionists of to-day, and 
then rendered down and down till they arrived at 
the jaguar's ear as a complete expression. It rather 
leads the unprejudiced observer to wonder if our 
most modern art will end up in conventional hiero- 
glyphics in spite of the efforts of the inventors to 
break away from convention. 

I02 



ART AND THE NATIVES 103 

After the Spanish occupation, when the clerics 
had finished demolishing native art, they imported 
artists from Spain to fill their churches and establish 
schools of more or less clerical art. These were 
not wildly successful; but as much money was 
spent on European pictures for the churches, an 
imitation Flemish school sprang up, of which 
samples still exist. With the development of the 
mineral wealth of the country a craze for the 
importation of art works set in, and Mexico imported 
Italian and Spanish masters as cheerfully as the 
Chicagoans do to-day. 

Titians, Tintorettos, and Riberas, followed by 
Murillos, flowed to the New World, and the eccle- 
siastics soon possessed more art treasures than the 
Old World churches owned. Slowly this began to 
influence the latent talents of the Indian mind, and, 
about a hundred years after, a school of painters 
developed in Mexico City. 

Jose Ibarra, Miguel Cabrera, Baltaras de Ochave, 
and Arteaga, all were noted for their work, 
and a national art, distinctive and founded upon 
European influence, became established. With 
the revolutionary period the art collections were 
scattered or destroyed, sold to raise funds for 
powder, or hidden and lost. Of what is left 
little but ecclesiastical subjects survive, but scat- 
tered about Mexico are still many art treasures 



104 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

whose existence is unknown to European connois- 
seurs. 

All art and literature in Mexico's early days fell 
under the ban of the Church, and, with the Inqui- 
sition and the ecclesiastics ruling the land, most 
of the Indian arts fell into disuse. One notable 
cleric. Bishop Zumarraga, collected all accessible 
native codices and writings, which he found to be 
deeply tainted with the ideas of the devil — and so 
burnt ! 

This auto-da-fe obliterated Mexican history for 
good and all. Beyond religious matter little was 
written for many years until the beginning of the 
nineteenth century ; political agitation began to stir 
Mexico, and Freemasonry began to spread the cause 
of liberty. With this awakening came the first 
crop of Mexican writers ; but it was not till some 
thirty years ago that a national school of writers 
came into being. 

Most Mexican work is fervidly patriotic, and they 
are now producing excellent poets and novelists, 
while journalism is exceptionally brilliant and 
sincere. 

Among the Indians, pottery making and modelling 
is still a predominant art, although here, as usual, 
the baneful effect of clerical taste and bigotry has 
destroyed many old-time secrets of craftsmanship. 
Early Mexican art was wonderful, and the exquisite 



ART AND THE NATIVES 105 

design and workmanship of some of the idols, vases, 
toys, and " caretas " dug up during excavations says 
much for their civilization. At Puebla, Mexican 
majolica ware is still turned out, but it is cruder 
and more vivid than the work of a century ago, 
when the factories were emulating the imported 
Spanish majolica. Puebla is still celebrated for 
tiles, and the newly-built British Legation, the work 
of the well-known Anglo-Mexican architect, Don 
Carlos Grove-Johnson, F.R.I. B.A., has a most won- 
derful hall and staircase decorated by designs in 
Puebla tiles. 

These tiles have a softness of colouring and an 
iridescent sheen under the glaze that make them 
of great value in a decorative scheme. The effect 
of the firing and the irregularities of their surface — 
for they are hand-made — giving them a depth and 
richness that is absolutely missing in the regularity 
and flatness of machine-made tiles. 

All the big towns of the Republic have their own 
speciality in pottery, and it is well worth while 
collecting specimens of the ware ; but it is unwise to 
use it, as the lead glaze which is in universal use 
has undoubtedly poisonous effects. 

Of woven fabrics, the only worthy of notice are 
the serapes or blanket cloaks made all over the 
Republic. These maintain the traditional Indian 
designs and are dyed with vegetable dyes. Unfor- 



io6 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

tunately, the ubiquitous German aniline dyes have 
penetrated to the mountains, and the manufacture 
of good serapes is fast becoming an obsolete art. 
For tourists ready-made, machine-woven, aniline- 
dyed, imitation serapes are imported from Ger- 
many. 



CHAPTER XIV 

OUTFIT— TRAVEL 

Anyone who purposes to travel is always full of 
questions and doubts concerning outfit, and is more 
than anxious to know what to take, and, what is 
more important, what it is better to buy out there, 
and not have to pay duty upon. 

To the person who has not been there Mexico 
always means Central America, and is vaguely 
regarded as being a neighbour of Chili and Colombia. 
Actually it is the tail end of North America, and 
accessible, either direct from England, or from New 
York, by rail or sea. This results in one being able 
to get mostly anything in Mexico City that one 
can get in any American or European capital. 

Clothes depend upon where, in the Republic, 
you are going, as it is all different altitudes — from 
perpetual snow to tropic jungle. If you propose to 
tour about you will need a fairly comprehensive 
outfit. For Mexico City light summer clothes are 
the best, medium weight underwear, and shirts 
which can be worn with belt or cummerbund, and 
no waistcoat, after the American fashion. An over- 

107 






io8 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

coat is necessary in the evenings, and solar topees 
are not needed — an ordinary straw hat or panama 
being ample protection against the sun. Most 
important of all is a cholera belt — about six feet of 
red flannel strip, six inches wide, wound round the 
abdomen. Red flannel is undoubtedly the best — why 
1 do not know, but there is some mystic value in 
the colour that beats all other devices hollow ; true, 
the colour at first comes out, and discolours your 
vest, but for all that I personally swear by red 
flannel, and refuse all others. 

The cholera belts of commerce that one buys in 
shops are useless, as they are not thick enough to 
be of service, and expand in the wash till they fail to 
retain their position ; also they are expensive, while 
my cholera belts cost about ninepence each, can be 
got anywhere, and last for years. 

Riding-breeches should be of light khaki twill or 
white drill ; the latter are cooler, but need washing 
after one day's use, as saddle soap discolours them. 
For the sea-coast and the Tropics white drill suits, 
and lots of them, are the only cool wear ; for out- 
door work khaki or Burberry shooting-kit is the 
best. Personally I believe in the cow-punchers' and 
frontiersmen's shirt and no coat for outdoor work ; 
as for headgear, the " Stetson " is the one and only 
hat. It must be a genuine " Stetson," and although 
costing about twenty-five shillings, it will last for 



OUTFIT— TRAVEL 109 

ever, and never let rain come through. For tropical 
rain a real waterproof is essential — no " raincoat " or 
fabric will withstand the downpour. 

A cow-puncher's oilskin " slicker " is the best for 
riding purposes, as it is built to cover the saddle and 
keep the whole of the wearer and his outfit dry ; 
but it is unlovely and rather heav}"-, and cannot be 
bought in England, although they only cost about 
fifteen shillings in the States. 

The boot question is one of great importance, for 
the Mexican stirrup will not admit a wide-soled out- 
door English boot. It is better to wear a rather 
pointed riding-boot with solid leather legs than the 
stouter lace-up pattern "field-boot." For walking, 
any light English or American boot will do. Shoes 
are to be avoided, as the mosquito steers immediately 
for the exposed ankles, and poisoned sores may lay 
one up for a week or more. 

Apropos of mosquitoes, never travel without a 
" pabellon," a mosquito-net — not the type sold at 
outfitters' and really looking like a net, but an 
enormous cone of cheese-cloth with no apparent 
meshes. Bought nets are futile, and need special 
jointed rigging ; but a big cone, or " pabellon," can be 
tied up to a nail in the wall or ceiling, and then 
spread entirely over the bed and sleeper. Lotions 
to frighten away mosquitoes are of little use, as they 
evaporate so quickly ; but ladies may find them useful 



no A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

when wearing garments so thin as to afford no pro- 
tection against mosquitoes. The best is a stuff 
called " Muscatol," which has a pleasant odour, and 
can be bought at any big shop in London. Keating's 
is useful, as Mexican trains and hotels are peculiarly 
verminous, and the native is a host to all the plagues 
of Egypt. In spite of personal cleanliness, even 
the best people may pick up a stray insect or so ; 
but a petrol hairwash will clear the situation, while 
calomel ointment will rid the person of jungle ticks 
and other pests, and it is as well to know these 
remedies. 

The Mexican washerwoman is a beast, and the 
Chinese lavador a good second. You send a new 
shirt to the wash, and it comes back without 
buttons and torn to rags. This is because the 
wash-lady takes it out to the river, or more likely a 
dirty pond, and hammers it between two stones, till 
every button is pulverized. In the big cities there 
are steam laundries ; they are expensive, but worth 
patronizing, as the boiling sterilizes one's clothes, 
and there is no fear of the infections that are spread 
by the Chinese and native methods of washing. All 
white drill suits should have detachable buttons; 
these should be detached before sending to the 
wash, from which they never return. 

For a sportsman a twelve-bore shot-gun and a 
rifle are ample battery ; but the rifle should not be 



OUTFIT— TRAVEL iii 

an English one, as no cartridges can be obtained for 
it. Any American weapon will do — Winchester, 
Marlin, Remington, or Savage — but it should be 
either a carbine or a saddle-gun, and of small calibre 
and high velocity, such as the well-known 30-30 or 
•303 Savage {not the English army cartridge, but a 
special American sporting cartridge). I personally 
believe in the "303 Savage saddle-gun as the best 
weapon for Latin-America or the States. Fitted with 
ivory sights for bad lights, which change to globe and 
orthoptic for long ranges, you have a weapon with a 
very low trajectory, very high velocity, and suitable 
for any range. The simplicity of the mechanism and 
the revolving box magazine and under-lever action 
make it a quick, reliable, and compact weapon. 

Automatic rifles are to be avoided, and the auto- 
matic pistol, unless of large calibre, is not over- 
reliable. In the Tropics explosives deteriorate 
quickly, and a miss-fire or a jam in an automatic 
may cause you to lose valuable time at a moment 
when you need your pistol exceedingly badly. In a 
revolver the next chamber will come round and you 
do not lose half the time that you do when a miss- 
fire occurs in an auto. 

The big pistol is the best, and a "45 or '44-40 
Colt can be depended on, but for the occasional 
traveller a '38 hammerless Smith and Wesson or 
Colt Positive will be easier to carry and quite 



112 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

efficient ; three twenties of any kind are too small 
to be effective. While travelling the revolver is 
carried openly in a belt holster, but in towns it must 
be concealed ; it is well to have one for ostentation 
if necessary ; but if a man is shot, leave Mexico at 
once, and write to someone to send your things on 
afterwards. This is not because homicide is dis- 
approved of, but because the white man has little 
chance in a Mexican court, and will be bled of 
all his money, even if he does not die of disease 
in gaol during the months or years before his 
" trial." It is better to kill than to wound if you are 
forced to defend yourself, as you have time to get 
away before the laws begin to operate. The penalty 
is the same in either case. 

The golden rule in Mexico is, " When in doubt or 
trouble try a bribe." Five dollars to a policeman 
will save you having to bribe the commissario with 
fifty. Using one's fists is also a serious offence, for 
if you draw blood — from nose or mouth — it is the 
same as if you had stabbed a man. The native is 
seldom troublesome, but white men of other nation- 
alities are sometimes turbulent, and the miner down 
on a^bust, or the rancher in his cups, can start trouble 
mighty quick. Never butt into anybody's trouble, 
or it becomes your own property at once. Never 
render first aid or interfere with a corpse, or you 
become a witness, and may be detained for months. 



OUTFIT— TRAVEL 113 

A good medicine-case is a sound thing to carry. 
Calomel, aspirin, quinine (5-grain tabloids), Collis 
Browne's chlorodyne, boracic acid, and liver pills 
are about all that is needed ; but as native food often 
disorganizes the digestion, salol and soda mint are 
good to carry as well. For poisoned bites hot bread 
poultices are the only thing that works, and a snake- 
bite pencil — lancet one end, permanganate the other 
— may come in useful for scorpion or snake bites. 
A good antiseptic should be carried : " chinosol " is 
sound ajid easy to handle, as it is non-poisonous 
and non-corrosive. Ointments are to be avoided, 
as they melt in the heat and leak out, messing up 
everything in the case. Compressed bandages and 
cyanide gauze and lint are sound, also an eye-bath 
for inflamed eyes. 

Opium pills of i grain are good if you are far 
away from aid and anaesthetics. All the above, 
except chlorodyne and chinosol, can be got of 
Burroughs and Wellcome, whose tabloids can 
always be relied on. The chlorodyne must be Collis 
Browne's; the others do not work, although the 
people who have never had to use them swear that 
they are better. Ninety-nine out of a hundred 
travellers will swear by Collis Browne, and, after all, 
they probably know what they are talking about. 
Calomel and chlorodyne taken early prevent tropical 
colic, and diarrhoea from turning into dysentery. 



114 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

Never neglect the slightest trouble in the Tropics, 
or it is sure to get worse ; indigestion changes to 
gastric ulcer, and scratches refuse to heal. 

Camp outfit can be bought as cheaply in Mexico 
City as in London, and you save freight. The 
Customs are not obnoxious, and a " peso " to the 
inspector will probably see you through without 
hindrance. To get to Mexico you have the choice 
of the Royal Mail or a German line ; if possible take 
the former, but on no account go by any of the other 
English lines, whose boats are cargo tramps with 
room for about twenty passengers. On these boats 
the food is vile and the accommodation abominable. 
They charge first-class fares for steerage comfort, 
and should be avoided at all costs. 

The Ward line from New York can be well 
recommended, and the trip via Havana is well worth 
while. The boats are cool and comfortable, and the 
food and service good and not at all expensive. 
Railroad through from New York to Mexico City 
is a hot and trying journey, although much quicker 
than the sea voyage. Travelling expenses are 
about a pound per day, but it can be done much 
cheaper if you speak Spanish, and are not particular 
as to first-class accommodation. 

A slight knowledge of Spanish is essential if 
you are to travel in the interior. The best way 
is to learn as many necessary words and phrases 



OUTFIT— TRAVEL 115 

as possible. Don't attempt grammar, but stick 
solidly to phrases and nouns. It does not matter 
how incorrectly you speak, as the natives are quick- 
witted and usually grasp your meaning; they are 
also polite and do not laugh at your errors. 

The rainy season (June to September) is the best 
time for Mexico City, but just after the rains is best 
for the Tropics. Up to 3,000 feet the country is 
" tierra caliente " — tropical ; then comes the " tierra 
templada," or temperate zone, which is the best all- 
round climate ; then the " tierra fria," at about 6,000. 
In the " tierra fria " everything is rather upset — hot 
days and frosty nights, northers with snow, or 
blazing hot dust-storms. Food requires special 
cooking, and health is doubtful. At that altitude 
the strain on the heart is heavy, and colds change to 
pneumonia, which is usually fatal. Another pecu- 
liarity is nerve trouble due to the altitude and 
intense sun. A change to a lower level for a rest 
every six months is a necessity if you wish to keep 
well. 

Game in Mexico is plentiful, but not always easy 
to reach. Everybody will assure you that there is 
" mucho venado," but this does not imply any real 
truth in the statement ; it is merely due to a 
sporting desire to please. " Tigre," or jaguar, is the 
biggest prize, though bears are found in the north. 
All jaguars and tiger-cats are called " tigre " or 



ii6 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

"tigrito," irrespective of whether they are really 
" gatos de montes " or bona fide " tigres." Actually 
there are jaguars, ocelots, and many different kinds 
of tiger-cats. Pumas are called ** pumas " or " leon- 
cillo," and in the Sierras of Chiapas the rare " felis 
yaguarondi " is to be found. 

The ordinary Mexican deer and whitetails are 
common, and in the north the blacktail is met with. 
Wild pig (" jabali "), peccary, coyotes, wolves, 
racoons, armadillos, sloths, tapir (" anteborussa "), 
ant-eaters (" formigueros "), alligators, and snakes 
of all kinds, including the dreaded water-boa, or 
"camouti," are to be found. As for birds, prac- 
tically all kinds of water-fowl, quail, partridge, 
pheasants, and wild turkeys are to be found. On 
the Guatemalan frontier the quetzal, the royal bird 
of the Aztecs, can be found : it has a vivid metallic 
green plumage, and is of a very retiring nature, 
living for the most part in deep jungle, and very 
rarely shot. 

Skins can be tanned very well and cheaply in 
Mexico City, but the natives spoil heads and skins 
if not carefully watched while skinning. It is best 
to dress and dry the skins with alum and arsenic, 
and when dry dip in paraffin oil to keep out insects. 

Tarpon-fishing at Tampico begins in December 
and runs till May ; the cost of fishing, hire of boat, 
etc., is about a pound a day, but the hotels cater 



OUTFIT— TRAVEL 117 

specially for fishermen during the season, and 
inclusive terms can be got, though arrangements 
should be made well in advance. 

Films and all photographic necessaries can be 
got in Mexico City, and it is better to buy them 
fresh than to bring them over. The light is good, 
but exceedingly tricky, often seeming much stronger 
than it really is. Good average work can be done 
with one-twenty-fifth exposure and a No. 8 dia- 
phragm, and the vivid contrast of high lights and 
subject can be overcome by photographing against 
the light. For views it is necessary to stop down 
well, and it must be remembered that in the Tropics 
a long exposure is often necessary. 

Films should be kept in sealed tin canisters, and 
plates and film-packs avoided, as the damp heat 
deforms the emulsion on plates and makes film- 
packs sticky. Developing in the hot country is 
almost impossible, and films should be sent to 
Mexico City at once; if you wait to do them on 
your return they are usually spoilt with the damp. 

For the traveller Mexico is a charming country, 
and offers boundless possibilities to the artist and 
pleasure-seeker, archaeologist, or tourist, and to 
people in search of something entirely different to 
everywhere else ; it is one of the most charming of 
countries, and, although one of the oldest civilized 
countries in the world, it is still one of the least 



ii8 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

known, and even in parts still unexplored. Ad- 
venture and romance are still to be found, and the 
primitive is within a day's journey of the railroad. 
In Mexico there is still the spirit of the early days 
of the West and places little changed since the 
advent of Cortez. The country exerts a spell over 
all those who have ever visited it, and yet on every 
hand civilization of the modern kind is making vast 
strides of progress. It would be well to visit 
Mexico before it is too late. 



CHAPTER XV 

"EL FOXCHASE" 

I HAD not been long in Mexico City before I met an 
enthusiastic horseman. He strolled in my rooms 
to borrow something, saw a pair of riding-boots, 
and stayed to talk horse. The upshot of it was that 
I was invited to join the Cosmopolitan Riding Club 
and attend a " foxchase." 

My friend explained the rules of " El Foxchase " 
as practised in Mexico City. There were no foxes 
and no hounds; a drag had been tried, but the 
altitude with its sharp night frosts and morning 
sun was fatal to the scent. The idea of a gallop 
still remained, and the "sport" was obtained by 
fastening a silver-mounted fox brush on to the left 
arm of an ambitious horseman, who was chased by 
the remainder of the club. 

The course was carefully laid out, and jumps 
arranged at intervals of a few hundred yards, while 
the natural river-beds of the country formed a series 
of formidable obstacles. 

The meet took place in the Chapultepec Park at 
eight o'clock on Sunday morning, and the field 

119 



120 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

began to turn up. To English eyes the whole 
proceeding was a brilliant burlesque. The weird 
horses and the still weirder costumes of the riders 
belonged to either the circus or Margate sands — no 
hunt on earth had ever been so brilliant in costume. 

The members of the hunt rode in the regulation 
" pink " — a pink of a hue never seen in England — 
actually a dull claret colour. Here and there a man 
was dressed in sky-blue or green — a visitor from 
some other club whose hunting colours were dif- 
ferent. The majority wore little black velvet hunt- 
ing-caps or white sun-helmets, but the actual crux 
came over the question of riding-breeches and boots. 

Some wore ready-made German riding-breeches 
" cut on English model " — remarkable garments re- 
sembling balloons. Others wore ordinary trousers, 
brown gaiters, and black boots. Here and there 
was someone disguised as a stage explorer in tight- 
fitting khaki drill and manifold belts and pockets. 
A little group of Mexican officers and cadets in full 
uniform, members of the Military Riding Club, 
completed the picture. 

The horses chafed and snorted while much 
tightening of girths and shortening of stirrups went 
on among the nervous riders. We were waiting 
for the arrival of the master. The master is newly 
elected for each meet, and his duties are to keep 
back the field and see that no one breaks the rules. 




^:^> 



f*^2 



^^ 



"EL FOXCHASE" 121 

Anyone passing the master is fined five dollars, 
and as many of the members cannot hold their 
horses (often ex-steeplechasers) this rule consider- 
ably augments the revenue of the club. The " fox " is 
not allowed to be caught till the end of the run, 
when everybody who has jumped all the obstacles 
is eligible to compete as a " hound," and attempt to 
tear the brush from the " fox's " arm. 

Finally, the master arrived. He was an elderly 
JVlexican of aldermanic proportions. Flushed with 
pride in his raiment, but insecure in his English 
saddle, he saluted the assembled company. Behind 
him rode a gentleman wearing a French horn, 
bandolier fashion, across his shoulder. 

We all formed up to be photographed, and with 
much shuffling got into line. Enterprising reporters 
sped up and down, taking our names for the Press 
notice. At last we moved off. 

Through the slums of Mexico City to the open 
country beyond our procession took its way. 
Wondering peons gazed amazed at the weird caval- 
cade, a solemn Englishman in full and correct 
hunting kit attracting much attention. Eventually 
the starting-place was reached. 

The "fox" led off, with three brilliant refusals, 
his mount objecting to leaving the party. Finally 
he got away. Midst clouds of dust the field — about 
fifty strong — charged the carefully built hurdle 



122 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

jumps that would accommodate, possibly, four 
horses abreast. Under the onslaught the fences 
were pounded flat, and the mob surged on. I was 
in the first flight, and rode for my life. Behind me 
the field behaved like a circus. Men on horses they 
could not hold swung round in wide circles to avoid 
passing the master and incurring a five-dollar fine. 

Soon we had half a dozen empty saddles, the 
riderless horses careering ahead. The field tailed 
out, and it was possible to ride without being ridden 
over. The sun was fierce, and the whole hunt grey 
with powdery dust. Down their faces the sweat 
had trickled, making little runlets through the 
coating of dust. 

An accident happened about half-way through the 
run. A young German was thrown and dragged. 
Half the field stopped to watch and give assistance, 
the other half swept on. Eventually we came in 
sight of the white tents erected for the hunt break- 
fast, and in a wide meadow we pulled up on the 
heels of the panting " fox." 

After a wait to allow the remainder of the field to 
come up, all those who had successfully taken the 
jumps ranged in a line, and on the master giving 
the word, raced to catch the "fox." He rode in 
circles, and eventually two enthusiastic "hounds" 
having ridden at him from opposite sides, he was 
hurled out of his saddle. The master decided, that 



"EL FOXCHASE" 123 

he could keep the brush, having successfully " gone 
to earth." 

Breathless and dusty, the hunt dismounted, and 
throwing their reins to native grooms, entered the 
tents. Here an enormous meal, with drink of every 
kind, was awaiting us, and a native band of blind 
musicians played excruciating music. 

The hunt breakfast was a real " quarry," and the 
company fell to with a will, consuming enormous 
quantities of beer and light German wines. Soon 
the breakfast was demolished, and cigars and cigar- 
ettes were handed round. It was proclaimed by 
the master that all "hounds" who felt equal to it 
might compete in a jumping competition for prizes 
provided out of the club funds. 

As the horses had now recovered their wind, the 
leading heroes of the club regretfully put down their 
drinks and got ready to compete. The peons hastily 
arranged a few jumps and retired to consume the 
remains of the hunt breakfast. 

The jumps were none of them more than a metre 
high, but still they caused several casualties, as the 
riding was deplorable. At last a man, riding a horse 
with a cast-steel mouth, to which he clung with the 
fear of despair, managed to clear all the jumps and 
was awarded first prize. The second and third 
prizes were given on points, and as the judges kept 
no lists, the two other competitors were awarded 



124 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

prizes. They were genuine supporters of the Hunt 
Club, and one of them owned his horse. Such 
a distinguished person must receive a prize I About 
eleven o'clock the party broke up, and rode back to 
the city in time to wash and change. The bull-fight 
or the races claimed us all, for in Mexico these are 
Sunday amusements. 

Mexico has the largest bull-ring in the world, and 
the ambition of every small boy of the lower classes, 
and of some degenerates among the upper, is to be 
a bull-fighter. " Toreros " (bull-fighters) are very 
popular indeed ; they are looked upon as supermen 
by the votaries of the bull-ring, but by ordinary 
common-sense folk are regarded as unspeakably 
nasty. Luckily they seldom live long. 

The torero is undeniably brave when he faces a 
bull, but this is about the only good point he has. 
He is immoral to a degree unbelievable to those 
who have not examined police records, and usually 
an uneducated man from the lowest possible class. 
Between the average torero and a Parisian Apache 
there is no gap. 

Bull-fights are disappointing when regarded as a 
spectacle. A lot of drivel has been written about 
the pageantry of the bull-ring and the wonderful 
dignity of its barbarism. 

It is fascinating, of course ; but you do not grudge 
the successful matador the applause that greets a 



"EL FOXCHASE" 125 

clean kill or a daring feat, but for anyone to be 
impressed by the dirty howling mob, redolent of 
garlic, oranges, and cheap cigarettes, is inconceivable. 

The exasperated little black bulls come tearing in 
to be killed, and the poor old blinded horses are 
forced up to them to be slaughtered, for a bull is 
not excited enough till he has blood on his horns. 
The scent of blood fills the hot amphitheatre; six 
bulls are slaughtered and a dozen horses or so. 
The corpses lie about in the arena till dragged 
away by mules. Sometimes a torero gets wounded, 
and by a special providence a wound from a bull's 
horn is usually so septic as to prove fatal. 

The native Mexicans are so addicted to "Los 
Toros" that the bull feast is regarded by the 
Government as a dangerous gathering, for, inflamed 
by the copious slaughter, the audience frequently 
riots, so every " corrida " has a regiment of soldiers 
on duty: you see them all over the amphitheatre, 
and the sunlight glints on their loaded rifles. It is 
not so many years back to the public auto-da-fe of 
the Holy Office, and to the human sacrifices of these 
Aztecs. Indian nature is slow to change, but the 
public are educated enough to regard the bull-ring 
as a modern substitute for the reeking sacrifice on 
the Teocalli. 

Racing in Mexico is on a very sound basis, the 
control being vested in the Jocky Club de Mexico, 



126 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

an institution founded on the same lines as the 
British, and exercising the same functions with 
regard to racing. 

Unfortunately the lower-class Mexican is not so 
interested in racing as he is in bull-fighting, but 
it must be admitted that horses come next in 
favour. 

The Jockey Club has a splendid race track — La 
Condesa — situated in the best quarter of the city ; 
and race meetings are held every Sunday during 
the season. These gatherings are always brilliant, 
and represent the best element in Mexico. 

At the Mexican Derby the President attended the 
racecourse in state, and everybody of importance 
in the social and official world could be found in 
the grand stand. Mexican ladies wearing Parisian 
clothes and marvellous jewellery. Mexican men in 
their best, honouring the occasion with top hats. 
There was every variety present : veterans from the 
period of i860, others the latest thing from London 
or Paris. It was a marvellous education in the way 
of hats. In Mexico a topper lasts for ever, as it is 
only.used on great occasions ; so its presence at the 
racecourse showed that racing was regarded as a 
function of the same importance as a marriage or a 
funeral. The horses are not at all bad — most of 
them import Kentucky stock ; the Derby candidates, 
of course, are bred in the country. Mexicans are a 



"EL FOXCHASE" 127 

little bit uncertain about the rules governing blood- 
stock, and one wealthy Mexican, when in the States, 
bought a thorough-bred colt by the well-known sire 
"Yankee." He was bitterly disappointed when he 
found that he could not enter a gelding for the 
Derby. 

There are many good steeplechases open to 
gentlemen riders, and the weights are by no means 
low. When one considers the fact that Mexico 
City is some 8,000 feet above the sea-level, and that 
the air at this altitude is very rarefied, the horses 
make pretty fair time. It is also hard work for the 
jockeys. 

Book-makers are not allowed, but the Jockey Club 
has established pari mutuels. These do a thriving 
business, and heavy betting is the rule rather than 
the exception. Much has been urged against horse- 
racing, but it is by no means a bad thing for a 
young man in the Tropics, where other active 
pursuits are out of the question. Your rider must 
keep fit and in training, and this is more likely to 
keep him in good health than a complete case of 
mixed medicines. The regular morning gallop and 
the atmosphere of the stable is not half as bad as 
many other relaxations that are attractive to youth. 
As for the betting, it is perfectly certain that the 
riding man is usually the one who bets least. He 
knows more of the game. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE MAN WHO DISLIKED BULL-FIGHTERS 

The European Colony in Mexico City was inflamed 
against the bull-fighting element. There is no need 
to go into details, but an episode concerning a white 
girl had taken place — the punishment for which in 
Mexico was a fortnight's imprisonment, and which 
would have incurred a sentence of penal servitude 
for life in England, or a speedy lynching in the 
States. It was then that I received a visit from 
Pulteney. 

My acquaintance with him was of the slightest. 
We had once travelled up from Vera Cruz together, 
and had met possibly twice since. 

I was reading in my rooms when he came in, 
bringing with him a friend. The friend he intro- 
duced with a wave of the hand as " This is Johnny 
Trott, our smelter foreman," and Pulteney rushed 
headlong into an explanation of the object of his 
visit to Mexico City. It appeared that he and his 
friend had a hobby that was unusual, and that I 
was invited to join in the game. 

The object of the night centred round bull- 

128 



BULL-FIGHTERS DISLIKED 129 

fighters. Bull-fighting is the most popular sport 
in Mexico, and leading toreros are regarded as 
demi-gods. They are usually in hard training and 
have the reputation of being bravoes of the worst 
type, frequently forcing quarrels on strangers and 
carrying weapons that ensure a speedy ending. 
Altogether in an Englishman's eyes they are about 
as undesirable a set of blackguards as can be 
imagined. The lower-class Mexicans regard them 
as heroes, just as an English newsboy looks up to 
a professional footballer. 

The bull-fighter dresses in a distinctive manner, 
and wears a hat which resembles an English straw 
hat in shape, but is made of felt. This is pushed 
down over his brows in order to show the pigtail on 
the back of his head. This is the distinctive badge 
of the professional bull-fighter. It was these little 
pigtails that Johnny Trott collected. 

It seemed evident that Pulteney and Trott had no 
idea of the danger of their scheme, so I expatiated 
on the reputations of the toreros and their ability 
with the knife. With a pained expression Pulteney 
informed me that this was no frivolous whim, but a 
serious enterprise which they had tried before. 
They had already secured three of the coveted 
trophies. He was not a subscribing member of the 
S.P.C.A., but merely a crusader. 

I flatly refused to join in any such foolhardiness : 

9 



I30 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

but when I was presented with a beautiful black 
cloak and found that even if I did not join them I 
could not dissuade them, I gave way gracefully and 
promised to adopt the role of spectator. 

We were all wearing the garb of adventure — the 
Spanish capote. It has the advantage of leaving 
your arms free, and wrapped around the left is a 
shield useful to guard knives. A lovely disguise, 
too, as with hat pulled well down and cloak muffled 
up, little can be seen of the wearer. 

Attired as three comic-opera conspirators we set 
out, first arranging a rendezvous at the Miners' 
Club, in case we had to separate. Johnny Trott 
carried not a delicate pair of barber's scissors, but an 
eight-inch knife. He said that he preferred it for 
hair-cutting; as, if a bull-fighter turned nasty, it gave 
him a more pleasing sense of security. I carried a 
serviceable revolver, but this was only for a last 
resort. 

We soon reached a caf6 noted for its bull-ring 
clientele. It was seldom entered by any white 
people. "Gringos," as Europeans are called in 
Mexico, were not popular, and to enter that cafe 
was to be certain of being insulted openly or 
even attacked by some of the customers. 

Pulteney selected a table not too far from the door, 
and we ordered coffee. The room was misty with 
cigarette smoke, and the click of the counters 



BULL-FIGHTERS DISLIKED 131 

sounded from the back of the room. Gambling is 
forbidden in Mexico City, but even the police knew 
better than to interfere with the cafe of the Three 
Cats. 

Our entry passed unobserved till someone noticed 
that we were talking in English, then things began 
to happen. The men at the next table began to talk 
in loud tones and the word "Gringo" could be 
heard. My friend took no notice. Encouraged by 
this the conversation got more sultry. Finally a 
bull-fighter, accompanied by two satellites, moved 
across till he was directly opposite our table. He 
leant over and struck a match on the marble surface. 
Dead silence fell in the cafe as everyone waited for 
the coming insult. Trott's face wore a sweet smile. 
Pulteney looked perfectly unconscious. I felt a 
tight feeling across my temples, and my stomach 
seemed to shrink up, leaving a feeling of deadly 
emptiness. 

The torero lit his cigarette, slowly inhaled a puff 
of smoke, then suddenly blew into Trott's face and 
hissed at him one burning Spanish comment. 

Trott's enormous brown paw caught the torero 
round the nape of the neck, and before he could 
move, his legs flew under him, and he sprawled face 
downwards across the table. With the crash of the 
falling crockery the spell of silence was broken ; 
everyone jumped up and a general melee took place. 



132 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

Pulteney threw one of the torero's satellites against 
the other, and I was busily engaged in preventing 
interference by the occupants of the table on my 
right. Trott took no notice of the surrounding 
skirmish, but proceeded with his work of sawing 
off the pigtail in spite of his victim's wild struggles 
to be set free. 

The fat was now fairly in the fire ; there were 
curses, and shouts of " Muera los Gringos !" Waiters 
flew about, and men left their tables, crowding to the 
scene of the row. At the back of the room the red 
flash from a pistol cut across the smoke, and some 
plaster fell from the ceiling. With a wild rush they 
panicked to the door and jammed — a struggling 
mass in the entrance. Someone threw a heavy por- 
celain match-stand, which missed me by the fraction 
of an inch, and smashed one of the big mirrors. 

Trott shouted above the noise of fight, " Righto I 
All clear !" and picking up chairs, we piled into the 
crush at the door. Behind us the mob crashed the 
tables to the floor. In half a minute we were out 
in the street and into the arms of a crowd, on the 
skirts of which appeared the uniform caps of the 
police. 

We stood not on the order of our going — but we 
went — separating in case of pursuit, but all to meet 
again at the Miners' Club. My last view of the cafe 
of the Three Cats was a solid phalanx of police in 



BULL-FIGHTERS DISLIKED 133 

the doorway using their clubs on the frenzied mob 
who were trying to break out ! 

We met again at the Miners' Club, and, while our 
thirst was slaked in the smoke-room, the tale was 
told to a delighted audience. This new game was 
distinctly thirsty work for the Tropics. We got 
washed, tidied ourselves up, and waited for the 
excitement to subside. 

Trott being pleased with himself and flushed with 
success, he insisted on repeating the exploit, this 
time at the " Casa d'Or." The "Golden House" 
was a lively all-night cafe situated in one of the 
gayest suburbs of the city. It was the Latin- 
American equivalent of a celebrated Montmartre 
restaurant. 

We were reinforced by two men from the club — 
Cartright and Marlake — and packing into a couple 
of cabs, drove off in search of adventure. 

The restaurant was a typical Mexican house. 
Tables were set in an open courtyard, or patio, and 
on the first floor was a wide gallery, where small 
tables were set for foods and drinks. The iron 
railings that guarded the edge of this balcony were 
hung with flower-pots, and from it the people above 
could look down upon the people feeding below. 

Everything was very luxurious. Cool fountains 
played into marble basins full of water-lilies, and 
the strains of a band came from the dancing-rooms 



134 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

that opened off the gallery. The decorations were 
exclusively red plush and gold. 

When we arrived everything was in full swing. 
People of all nationalities, and girls of every shade 
of colour, from a Hayti half-bred to a blonde 
Flamande, were seated in the gallery. At a big 
table in the patio sat two toreros and their jackals, 
with several ladies. The head of the table was 
taken by a young Mexican connoisseur of bull- 
fighting, who was evidently paying for the feast. 
As we entered the dining-room one of the toreros 
sprang to his feet, and seizing the chair of the girl 
next to him, tipped her with it into the basin in the 
fountain. His companions all screamed with laughter 
at the sight of the poor bedraggled creature. All 
was gaiety and mirth. 

Then we took a hand. The table went over 
bodily as Trott and Pulteney tackled a bull-fighter 
apiece. Marlake and Cartright took charge of the 
jackals, and as I was merely a spectator, the gilded 
youth fell to me. The waiters and chuckers-out 
fell upon us in a body, but the ladies clung to them, 
and swore like cats in blistering Spanish. My 
young exquisite tried to brain me with an empty 
champagne bottle, and other parties began to cheer 
on the show, and pelt raiders and raided with rolls 
and fruit. 

The noise of the battle rose, and Trott had sawn 



BULL-FIGHTERS DISLIKED 135 

off his adversary's pigtail, and was going to 
Pulteney's assistance, when Marlake received a knife 
stab in his arm. Up till now the game, though 
rough, had not been serious ; with the flash of the 
knife the whole complexion of matters changed. 

From the door came the hoarse challenge of the 
police, and the sound of clubs hammering on the 
big doors. It was time to move. A straight blow 
or two cleaned up the remainder, and we went in a 
body for the gallery stairs. At the foot of these a 
diversion took place. A Mexican who had been 
shouting " Death to the Gringos !" and dancing on 
a chair, attracted the notice of a giant German, who 
threw him bodily at the advancing police, and joined 
a group with a yell. 

There were no other white men down below, and 
together we gained the gallery. Here a panic was 
in progress. With shouts of " Pohce !" and screams 
from the girls, everything was in an uproar, and 
the music of the band stopped short. From the 
ballrooms and the private rooms came Americans 
and Britishers, Germans and Swedes, all ready for 
a scrap, and all pleased at the excitement. 

A pistol squibbed off down below, and a big 
lumberman in the gallery shot twice at a cluster of 
electric lamps ; pieces of the shades fell tinkling on 
the tiled floor of the patio. 

Below, the police were arresting the bull-fighters, 



136 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

and a group of police officials were visible in the 
porch. An officer called on us to surrender, and 
led his squad to the foot of the stairs to arrest us ! 
Then came the " great idea." Someone dropped one 
of the decorative pots on the bunch. We used the 
flower-pots as missiles, and with shouts of joy the 
white men began to hurl these down on to the 
police below. Plants, shards, and earth fell on the 
enemy ; they replied with a shot or two, which 
drew from us a return fire. A policeman yelped 
and dropped his shattered pistol-arm, turned and 
ran for the door. The others followed him, and the 
restaurant roof rocked to our laughter, as a big 
electroplated soup-tureen chased the officer down 
the hall. Subdued by our mixed fusillade, the police 
took cover in the porch. 

Matters were now serious, and demanded organ- 
ized work. The girls were shrieking in the rooms, 
or huddled together in corners, hiding their jewellery 
in their stockings. Automatically we took command, 
and with laughter and cheerful cursing set to work 
to get out of the row with whole skins. The enemy 
had developed a policy of siege, and outside the 
blowing of whistles and the murmur of a crowd was 
audible. Pulteney and I went to a window over- 
looking the entrance, and saw the street lined with 
police and a semicircle of mounted men drawn up 
round the door, while at each end of the street the 



BULL-FIGHTERS DISLIKED 137 

lamps shone on the carbine barrels of other mounted 
pickets. The windows were all clustered with 
faces, as the occupants of the houses looked out on 
the fun. A bullet smashed a pane of glass in the 
window, and passed between us, and a yell rose 
from the street. We retreated hurriedly, and as we 
did so, heard the clanging of a fire-alarm bell in the 
distance. 

All Mexico was humming like a hive of angry 
bees. A waiter was caught, and we inquired 
for a side door. Yes, there was one, but it was 
next to the front door, and opened into the street ; 
so there was no escape that way. Led by Pulteney 
and Trott, a party made a quick survey of the 
premises and found that we were caged. Every 
window was barred with iron, and the walls were 
thick ; the roof higher than the surrounding houses 
and leading nowhere. Startled at the news, we 
looked at each other with serious faces. 

At this juncture a little Cuban girl stepped forward 
and said that if the senores would follow her she 
could show us a way. As for those dirty pigs of 
police, etc., etc. 

She led us to a small barred window looking out 
on to the flat roof of the house immediately behind 
the restaurant. If we could get the bars out we 
were safe. A wrecking party set to with a will, but 
the stout iron bars resisted till the giant German 



138 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

broke the top off a marble table, and used the iron 
pedestal as a crowbar. We watched the bars bend 
and then tear loose from the brickwork; in a few 
minutes the way was clear, and a party led by 
Pulteney and Cartright set out to find the way. 
Marlake, with his arm wrapped in a napkin, and the 
little Cuban girl clinging to him, were the next to 
go, and all the ladies followed, several Mexicans 
having to be taught the politeness of letting ladies 
go first. 

A thunderous summons from the street drove some 
of us back to the firing line, and a few pistol- 
shots kept the police from rushing the door. An 
American in evening dress stood by the main 
switchboard, and put out one set of lights after 
another, while silently the besieged evaporated 
through the back window. Trott and I and the 
switchboard man came last, keeping up a deafening 
racket to deceive the police, till we reached the 
escape window. Quickly we fled over the roofs 
and descended through the house of a respect- 
able Mexican, who with his family was gazing 
in astonishment at the mad procession filing 
down his stairs. At his elbow stood Pulteney 
with drawn revolver ensuring silence during the 
flight. 

Bruised, dusty, and happy beyond belief, we 
tumbled out into the street, and, later, woke the 



BULL-FIGHTERS DISLIKED 139 

sleepy steward of the Miners' Club to hear the 
story of the man who disliked bull-fighters. 

The morning train bore Pulteney and Trott back 
to their mine, and one leaving half an hour later 
carried me to Cuernavaca. I found the air of 
Mexico City a good deal too exhilarating — for that 
week at least. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE LOWER ORDERS 

The back-wash of the world drifts eventually 
down to Central America. There you can find 
men who have been in every country under the 
sun, just natural born tramps and wanderers. 
The line of the railroad is their highway, and as 
the iron roads push farther down towards the 
Equator they are followed by their slaves. The 
American has a lovely series of names for them : 
they are all " bums " — that is to say, profitless 
accepters of charity — but those that are professional 
tramps are called "hoboes," and the criminal 
"hobo" is a "yeg." 

Drink is cheap in Mexico : for ten cents a man 
can get enough cane spirit, or " tequila," to be 
drunk for twenty-four hours. As no white man can 
refuse charity to another destitute white man in a 
coloured country, thirsty tramps thrive in Mexico 
and Guatemala, till they are picked up dead outside 
a native village. 

Like birds, they are migratory, and in the winter 
come south in search of warmth, travelling on 

140 



THE LOWER ORDERS 141 

freight trains over the border, or landing from 
cargo steamers at Manzanillo or Salina Cruz. In 
the United States and Canada there is little charity, 
and work-shy men who fear the austerities of rail- 
road construction or lumbering, drift to the Tropics, 
where for a white there is no manual labour ; they 
soon discover charity, and become members of the 
"hobo" fraternity. 

The shameless swell usually calls upon the 
Consul (or if it be the Capital, the Minister) to do 
something for him. In some cases he arrives first 
class, puts up at the best hotel, carries letters of 
introduction to the best people, and has only 
about 100 dollars in the world. This money is 
at once spent on unnecessary extravagances ; after 
that he tries to live on his acquaintances. 

On one occasion a little group of " hoboes " were 
sitting in the shade of a water-tank by the side 
of a railroad track in Southern Mexico, and an 
analysis of their various callings revealed the fact 
that one was an ex-German cavalry officer, one an 
ex-English Guardsman, and also, of all things, 
claimed to be an aviator; the third was an expert 
surve3''or and a hopeless drunkard; the fourth 
claimed a medical degree and was called " Doc," 
but apparently never ^ot beyond his student years. 

They were playing poker with a pack of filthy old 
cards, and were using pea-nut shells for chips. 



142 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

None of them had any money, and they were 
waiting for a freight train to carry them down to 
Guatemala. I offered them temporary employment 
on the line, but the offer was indignantly rejected. 
Why should they work when they could live 
without it ? They were not viciously ambitious. 

More than one tramp has explained to me that 
he is not a " hobo " by force of circumstances, but 
simply from an artistic love of vagabondage as a 
profession; but I should very much distrust the 
average " bum's " capacity for holding any job, how- 
ever trivial. When " hoboes " are around, anything 
that is above the value of twopence and easier to 
carry than a locomotive has to be nailed down. As 
a tribe they are human jackdaws. 

The white rancher, or ranch, or mine employe, is 
also a peculiar product of the country. Such exiles 
are to be pitied anywhere, but in Mexico something 
of the spirit of the country, the atmosphere of the 
primeval jungles, or the hopelessness of the Sierras, 
creeps into their being and makes their life seem 
sadder than that of the colonial or settler in the 
temperate zones. 

It is a peculiar attribute of the British that they 
educate their sons to embrace eagerly the idea of an 
overseas career, and strenuously avoid teaching 
them the meaning of exile. Parents and relatives 
who probably consider that they are sincerely fond 



THE LOWER ORDERS 143 

of their sons or kinsmen seem to be able to send 
them out to an unbearable and hopeless existence 
with less consideration than they would devote to 
the problem of their appearing suitably clad at a 
garden-party. The truth never crosses their minds, 
or even if it does they dismiss it as unthinkable, and 
plunge feverishly into a dream of tropical life, 
adventure, and careers of millionaires, that they per- 
sist in believing to be the "overseas career." 

Some types of Englishmen can stand exile and 
monotony, but these types are usually just as suc- 
cessfully plodding and unenterprising at home. It 
is not these who as a rule get sent out ; instead, we 
receive the boy who has faults or failings, weak 
spots, or periods of nervous temperament which were 
perfectly natural and probably misunderstood. The 
world is full of well-bred, educated Britishers, who 
have been shot out to a strange country before they 
had ever had a chance to decide what profession in 
life they really were suited for. Flotsam and jetsam, 
they wander from one badly paid job to another, 
visiting all the out ranges of the world and slowly 
deteriorating. 

Some are successful, some are lucky and die 
young, but most of them live dreadful lives and 
suffer for years entirely because of the preposterous, 
carve-out-a-career-abroad theory. If a man cannot 
carve out one at home he won't anywhere else. 



144 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

unless you give him more opportunity and more 
capital than he would have had at home. The 
parental idea is a vague belief in the prevalence of 
opportunity; it is as a rule as well founded as all 
their other ideas of an overseas career. 

To some life may not be so hard, but to the aver- 
age upper-class English boy; the loneliness, savagery, 
and mental monotony of a ranch job are hopeless. 
Adventure, romance, and change of scene — these 
dreams soon fade from the imagination, and the 
savage animalism of nature, the weary futility of 
it all, the heavy drag of time, take their place. 
Enthusiasm and energy give way before fever and 
the unutterable squalor of life. Dirt and mos- 
quitoes attract few poets, and the romance of over- 
seas is only a romance to look back to afterwards 
when the time of trial is over. 

For a ploughboy or a country-bred lad these may 
not be so bad, but to the boy from the big cities — he 
who has lived in touch with civilization and the 
energy centres of the world — the burden is an im- 
possible one. One can never appreciate civilization, 
comfort, amusement, and art until one has been 
exiled. Exile — compulsory simple life— is merely a 
complete vindication of the correctness of popular 
judgment in preferring the cities to the waste places. 
In the old days it was a punishment, now a career. 

It is not exactly fair to label the feelings of the 



THE LOWER ORDERS 145 

exiled as "home-sickness" — it is a much broader 
and wider sentiment ; probably the Germans have a 
way of expressing it by some wonderful compound 
word beginning with " Heimat " ; we only have it 
in the sentiment underlying the phrase, "The Old 
Country," or "Home." 

To sit on a heat-blistering veranda and read the 
Christmas numbers of illustrated papers fresh from 
the mail, to see the dear old advertisements of 
restaurants and theatres and the inevitable picture 
of " Christmas Eve in Piccadilly," or " Christmas at 
the Savoy Hotel — Children's Party," is to feel home- 
sick, and Christmas Day parties are really rather 
pathetic functions when you are one of a few strays 
in another hemisphere. Roast turkey — described 
on American menus as " Roast Young Turkey" — with 
cranberry sauce, plum-pudding (tinned), and the 
invasion of other alien dishes, like pumpkin-pie and 
succotash, are poor substitutes for the real thing; 
besides, everyone in the room is thinking of 
" home," and such gaiety as there is is forced, 
wild, in the hope of it proving a mental sleeping 
draught. 

Christmas in Mexico is a horrible season, and 
everyone is glad when it is over ; it also has horrible 
trials for the foreigner's temper in the shape of the 
parcel post department. Everyone in Mexico hires 
a mail-box, because the itinerant postmen are too 

10 



146 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

dishonest to be trusted, and parcels must be collected 
from the central post-office in person. One is 
handed a slip of paper upon which is written the 
statement : " A parcel has arrived for you : apply 
at the window " ; and torn with feelings of hope and 
emotion at the prospect of a parcel from home, you 
rush round. Half an hour later, having expended 
about a dollar on Customs, stamps, and visited 
many official departments and windows, you are 
handed a crushed cardboard box containing a 
calendar — value sixpence ha'penny — and a card, 
with the best wishes for Christmas, and — oh, 
hell ! — it may be a silk tie, price half a crown ; 
Custom duty in excess, five shillings, and you hard 
up at the time ! 

The Mexican peon is the only form of labour avail- 
able in the Republic, and there is only one way of 
securing a sufficiency of peons for work outside the 
big towns — that is to employ the contract labour, 
or, as they are called, "enganchars." 

Much has been written condemning the contract 
labour system in vogue in Mexico, but it has nearly 
all been written by people who were not conversant 
with the subject. Before condemning the system 
for its abuses it is as well to see if there is any 
satisfactory substitute. The native Mexican peon 
is human in several respects, his leading human 
attribute being that he does not like work. He pre- 



THE LOWER ORDERS 147 

fers to loaf and breed in idleness. The native is 
well paid, and can in two months earn sufficient to 
support him in idleness for the remainder of the 
year. He lacks ambition, preferring to watch his 
wife do the work and live on the produce of his 
little gaiden or maize-patch. The planter and the 
contractor, on the other hand, have urgent need of 
manual labour, in order to gather their produce or 
build their embankments; so a middleman's pro- 
fession, that of supplier of labour, was invented. The 
natives are bound to do a certain amount of work for 
so many months at a definite rate of pay. So far so 
good. In many cases this arrangement is carried out 
properly by both sides, the planter having to take pre- 
cautions against desertion and shirking, for the peon 
is absolutely untrustworthy and non-moral. The 
trouble starts when he goes to a plantation where 
the planter is also a thief The peon's labour is 
appointed by piece-work, and he is compelled to 
buy his food and small necessaries at the store on 
the ranch. On a bad plantation he soon gets into 
debt, and by the simple process of keeping him in 
debt by setting him a daily task that he cannot 
accomplish, he is made into a slave. 

The Mexican law is powerless and always 
corruptly administered, so the poor peon has no 
remedy, and as he is usually housed in a wide 
enclosure he cannot run away. Writers have 



148 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

drawn attention to the shocking laxity of morals 
among the peons and their employers. This is a 
matter totally apart from the contract labour system. 
The morals of the natives are practically non- 
existent, and cohabitation is the rule rather than 
the exception, one reason being that very high fees 
are charged for the performance of the marriage 
ceremony by the Church ; hence the peon regards 
it as a luxury for the idle rich. 

The sweeping condemnation of the only way of 
getting labour in the Republic — because some few 
plantations are wickedly run — is unfair and foolish. 
Many ranches are conducted on perfectly fair lines, 
and the majority are managed in a way suggesting 
the best era of feudal times, the relations between 
labour and the managers being those of baron and 
retainer, and perfectly suited to the needs of the 
people and the country. 

In the cities unskilled labour is plentiful, but the 
town-bred Mexican is usually a thorough blackguard. 
In the City of Mexico I had control of a large gang 
of peons in an engineering yard, and was able to 
study them at my leisure. Briefly speaking, they 
are all thieves, and will steal anything pawnable. 
They are absolutely non-moral, lazy and thickheaded 
to a degree, and if left to themselves perfectly use- 
less. On the other hand, if looked after by a white 
foreman who can direct petty details of their labours 



THE LOWER ORDERS 149 

and keep them working, they are fairly satisfactory. 
A bully will get little work out of them and lots of 
trouble; but treat them as big children, and they 
are fairly efficient. 

The next class is the mechanic or artisan class, 
and these are of much better stock. They are 
painstaking, careful workers, but slow and casual 
with regard to finish. For the most part they are 
purely mechanical workers, and lack initiative and 
resource; but as their wages are about a quarter 
those of a white man they are enabled to produce 
work at a very cheap rate. Their mental limitations 
are not those of the peon class, and they can mostly 
read and write, but they do not exercise these 
talents any more than do the lower classes of our 
European cities. 

The servant problem is just as bad in Mexico 
City as it is elsewhere ; indeed, one can easily say 
that it is very much worse, as one has to deal with 
the " custom of the country." A house-boy (a com- 
bination of housemaid and butler) receives as much 
as forty dollars a month, and, in addition, can be 
expected to steal and wear his master's clothes, sup- 
port a family with stolen food, and bring strangers 
into the house. He will, in return for these per- 
quisites, make your bed, flick up the dust in your 
rooms, and receive visitors in his shirt-sleeves. He 
has no regular day out, but is out most evenings 



150 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

and afternoons ; continually brings bills for brooms, 
soap, and household implements, and never by any 
chance keeps them. The bill is — like his other 
services — imaginary. Still, you cannot do without 
him, so have to put up with it. 

Cooks are rare, and command high prices. The 
usual Mexican cook is a fat old Indian woman, with 
a large and noisy family, who wears a filthy, shape- 
less white garment, and her hair loose down her 
back. She steals two-thirds of the money you give 
her for marketing purposes, and feeds one on 
garbage with the remainder. Should the unhappy 
householder object to any of their servants' ways, 
the servants just walk out — no giving notice, no 
consideration affects them ; they just go, and the 
householder cooks his own dinner on a blazing hot 
day in an unventilated kitchen. Another pleasing 
trait of cooks is that when they go they take all 
the kitchen utensils — enamelled saucepans, plates, 
knives and forks — every scrap of food, and every- 
thing portable. They leave the kitchen absolutely 
bare, and — vanish. 

Characters are useless to go upon, and the want 
of decent servants is such that I have known a lady 
to tempt her friend's cook with an offer of higher 
wages ! There is only one way to deal with a bad 
cook who persists in sending in inedible dishes, 
which she knows will be returned untasted to the 



THE LOWER ORDERS 151 

kitchen, where they will be devoured by her 
relations, and that is to keep a dog. Give the dog 
the abomination, and the cook will either improve 
or leave. No Mexican feeds a dog— it strikes them 
as sacrilege. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE DAWN OF THE REVOLUTION 

The Mexican " Centennial," the Republic's hun- 
dredth birthday, had been celebrated, and the 
various diplomatic missions from Europe had re- 
turned home. The people were resting after a 
month's continuous gaiety, and the faded decora- 
tions still hung in the streets, when a small para- 
graph appeared in the paper stating that " the 
agitator, Francisco Madero, had been released." 

No one knew much about him except that he 
had foolishly opposed the re-election of President 
Porfirio Diaz, and had been put in prison on a 
faked charge in order to keep him out of harm's 
way during the Centennial. 

Madero, after his release, left for his native State 
of Coahuila, and soon we heard rumours of a revolt 
on the American frontier, and of outrages in Chi- 
huahua. The general consensus of opinion was that 
the rising would be put down in a day or two; 
even reactionary opinion was favourable to Diaz, 
though all joined in condemning the Vice-President, 

152 




T-EANCISCO I. MADEEO 
REBEL LEADBE, LATE PBBSIDENT OP MEXICO 



THE DAWN OF THE REVOLUTION 153 

Don Ramon Corral. No one had a good word to 
say for him except President Diaz. 

News reached us slowly, and for a week the 
revolution smouldered as a local uprising, till a 
fierce affray took place at Puebla, where a re- 
actionary, called Cerdan, had started a plot against 
the Government. When the soldiers went to arrest 
him, he armed his household and his women-folk, 
and stood out a siege of twenty-four hours. The 
military at last broke in, and on the persons of the 
captives documents were discovered that showed 
the existence of a regularly organized plot all over 
the country, including large quantities of correspon- 
dence and a great deal of money, also commissions 
in the rebel army signed by Madero. 

The Government began to take the plot seriously, 
and sent an army corps north into Chihuahua in 
order to crush the rising. Battles were fought, and 
it was claimed that the rebels had been annihilated 
on the field of Cerro Prieto, which victory was 
celebrated in Mexico City. Unofficial information 
credited the rebels with the victory, and announced 
that dead Federals were to be seen, but few dead 
rebels. 

Troops went to the front continually, and none 
returned. General Luque, a personal friend of the 
President and Chief of Staff, went on a private 
mission, and did not come back. Madero was in 



154 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

the United States, controlling the revolutionary 
Junta. Then for a month or two came no news 
except of skirmishes. 

The public opinion was changing, and Diaz was 
unpopular. The end of the revolution was con- 
tinually announced, but the railway traffic was 
persistently interrupted. Finally, the rebels took 
one or two towns, and eventually invested the 
important city of Chihuahua. 

When this news arrived there was a general 
sensation, and the news of the mobilization by 
the United States of an army corps for the border 
increased the tension to an almost unbearable 
degree. All foreigners became unpopular, and 
an invasion would have provoked a massacre. It 
was now evident that the whole of the northern 
provinces were out of control, and fighting was in 
progress in the State of Lower California, where a 
gang of American Socialists had proclaimed an 
independent Republic. 

A British naval officer was appealed to for pro- 
tection by the authorities of one of the coast towns 
in Lower California, and he landed a small party 
of bluejackets. The Mexicans were furious, and 
the Americans felt that they were rather behind- 
hand if the "Johnny Bulls" were going to act as 
promptly as this for the protection of British 
interests. Europeans became very unpopular, and 



THE DAWN OF THE REVOLUTION iS5 

the Japanese were hailed as friends. Being much 
of the same colour as Mexicans, they are greatly 
approved of by the natives. 

The South of Mexico now began to rise, and soon 
the States of Guerrero and Oaxaca were in revolt. 
Figuerroa, a well-known and respected Mexican, 
was the revolutionary leader on the South, and 
under his leadership the rising extended. 

Foreigners were, for the most part, unmolested, 
but wisely they sent in their women and children 
to Mexico City, from whence nearly all those who 
could afford to go went to the States. 

Haciendas were raided, and massacres of 
Spaniards and Chinese took place. 

Robberies were common, and property lost its 
value. Foreign firms in Mexico City had to close 
down, and " society," such as existed, was depleted. 

The attitude of the foreign colony was peculiar. 
It refused to recognize the existence of the 
revolution till it actually came home to them in 
the shape of the death or ruin of a friend. The 
state of affairs in the country was hopeless. 
Mines had to be abandoned, for the labourers pre- 
ferred robbery under arms to manual labour, and 
joined the rebels in a body, looting the stores of 
the mines and giving valueless bills, " payable on 
the success of the revolution," in exchange. 

Many incidents were related of attacks and insult 



156 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

to foreigners, but the Mexican Government cen- 
sored news, and the diplomatists had instructions 
to keep quiet. In fact, the Corps Diplomatique in 
Mexico sent the strongest representations to their 
home Governments that American intervention 
would be fatal. These views were duly communi- 
cated to Washington. 

An old school friend of mine, who was a manager 
for the English Lumber Company in Michoacan, 
came up to the city. He had been forced to leave 
his mill and belongings, as the mountain Indians 
had joined the rebels and were destroying all 
foreigners' property His narrative was vivid — a 
picture in itself of the Mexican temperament, bar- 
barism and Spanish cruelty. The native foreman 
of his mill had been seized by the revolutionaries, 
tortured, and finally torn apart between two horses. 
The native clerks had been stoned to death, and 
their bodies thrown into the burning ruin of the 
mill. Later, this same band of rebels sacked the 
town of Morelia. 

The native Press took advantage of the general 
disturbance to issue the most flagrant incitements to 
treason ; some local journals even advocating the 
expulsion of Americans and foreigners. Ramon 
Corral, the Vice-President, whose health had been 
bad for some time, sent in his resignation, under the 
pressure of public opinion. This move, earlier in 



THE DAWN OF THE REVOLUTION 157 

the trouble, would have saved the situation, but 
disorder had now spread too far. 

The outward causes of the revolt were the un- 
popularity of the Vice-President, and the general 
feeling that President Diaz was not immortal, and 
that he had taken no steps to nominate and secure 
a popular successor. From these two facts sprang 
the revolution which advanced the political doctrines 
of Universal Franchise and no re-election. These 
became popular slogans, in spite of the fact that 
about 60 per cent, of the population of Mexico is 
illiterate. 

This large proportion of voters would either take 
the advice of the local priest in political matters, or 
vote for a popular candidate without in the least 
examining his qualifications for a responsible post. 
An educated Mexican gentleman, one of the partisans 
of the Diaz, or, as it is more usually called, " Scien- 
tifico " Party, explained the mental power of the 
Mexican peon. 

" The peon," he said, " is a great hero-worshipper." 
Bull-fighters are their greatest heroes, and next to 
that a leading bandit is their most popular character. 
These are the only two roles that they are ambitious 
to play. An impartial election would return a 
bull-fighter as President and a bandit as Prime 
Minister. Whichever party rules Mexico there can 
be no " Universal Suffrage." 



158 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

The "No re-election" cry was popular. The 
people saw that it would prevent the establishment 
of another military dictatorship, and President Diaz 
himself was in favour of the movement ; at least he 
issued a proclamation to that effect. 

The final scenes of the revolution were pathetic. 
The Chamber of Deputies was divided against itself, 
and the city was in the hands of the mob. President 
Diaz at last consented to resign, and it was arranged 
that Senor de la Barra, who had been the Mexican 
Minister at Washington, should be proclaimed as 
^^ interim President" until the revolution should 
cease and an election could be carried out. 

The day on which the President was expected to 
resign was memorable, for, instead of handing in his 
resignation, he sent a message excusing himself on 
the grounds of ill-health, and saying he would 
appear — " mafiana !" 

The Chamber rose in disorder, and bloody fighting 
took place in the capital. The next day Diaz re- 
signed, and in the midst of the rejoicings, fled to 
Vera Cruz, 

Madero and his successful rebels marched south, 
and the rebels, surrounding the city, entered to pre- 
serve order, and decorated the battered streets to 
greet the popular hero, Don Francisco I. Madero. 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE SHOT-GUN JOURNALIST 

Mexico City was depressed. Wars and rumours 
of wars were frightening away foreign capital, and 
the business people were looking blue. On the top 
of this came news that the U.S.A. had mobilized an 
army corps to sit on the Texas-Mexico border, 
and the City of Mexico, usually asleep, began to 
wake up and develop incidents. 

I immediately turned to pen and ink and bom- 
barded some of the big papers in the States for an 
appointment as "the man on the spot." Having 
bought a Sunday edition of the journal I preferred, 
I waded through the comic and football sections, and 
eventually found the news page. Its happy dis- 
regard for truth was charming. I immediately sent 
a contribution, which appeared with red capitals an 
inch high in the next Sunday edition, and I was 
authorized to go ahead and " cover " the revolution. 

The Mexican Government was not enthusiastic 
about foreign journalists, as a number of articles 

159 



i6o A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

detrimental to Mexico had been published in the 
States, and an English archaeologist, who had been 
a tourist trip in Yucatan, was busy in a new role as 
Critic of Tropical Morality. Under these circum- 
stances I laid low, and did not advertise my latest job. 

The rebels were unfortunately several hundred 
miles away, but there were rumours of rebels every- 
where, and I betook myself to a leading " Maderista " 
(a political follower of Don Francisco I. Madero, 
the rebel leader) for information. 

He was a cheery soul, totally irresponsible, and a 
typical lower-class Mexican. By profession he was 
an engineer's draughtsman, and earned about thirty 
shillings per week. His hobby was conspiracy, and 
to him I explained my desperate need of news. I 
explained freedom with a large " F," and babbled of 
the liberty of the Anglo-Saxon Press. He succumbed 
to the temptation of having his club mentioned as a 
real revolutionary secret society, and swore me to 
secrecy as far as Mexico was concerned; then, 
assuming an air of great mystery, I was told to 
wait outside the Cafe Colon at seven o'clock that 
evening. Punctually I was at the rendezvous, and 
after a minute or two's wait, a newsboy approached 
me, and under cover of selling me a paper, pushed a 
note into my hand and departed mysteriously. I 
opened the missive and found that my instructions 
were to go to Maria Guerrero Theatre and wait till 



THE SHOT-GUN JOURNALIST i6i 

approached by a man who would whisper to me 
" Libertad," then I was to follow him closely. 

It seemed rather like a game of " follow my leader," 
but I was interested, and hiring a hack, set off for 
the " Maria Guerrero." This theatre is the liveliest 
in Mexico City, and caters to the lower orders. Its 
foyer is rather like the under side of a railway bridge, 
or the hall of a cheap tenement. Having avoided 
the attentions of the ticket speculators, and entered 
the foyer, I was greeted by a mysterious and dirty 
Mexican, who breathed on me a garlic - scented 
"Libertad." I gasped, turned, and followed him 
through the garbage of endless slums, down narrow 
alleys of high Spanish houses, their windows barred 
and shuttered, under dark archways, disturbing 
peaceful, sleeping watchmen. Finally he drew up 
at a low door in a street somewhere in the suburb 
of Peralvillo, and knocked twice. 

With rattling of chains and scraping of bolts, the 
door opened and an aged crone looked out, holding 
a lamp above her head. She recognized my guide 
and reluctantly admitted us. We followed her 
down a long passage and across a courtyard, where 
we disturbed the roosting hens, and finally entered 
a small room at the back. There I was greeted by 
my revolutionary friend, and introduced to the 
members of the circle. 

Round a table covered with glasses and packets 

II 



i62 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

of cigarettes, sat as queer a body of men as one 
could find. Some were elderly respectable citizens 
clad in dark European clothes, others were in the 
national dress of Mexico — the charro riding costume ; 
and a sprinkling of soldiers in uniform, and students 
in crimson-lined conspirators' cloaks, completed the 
setting. 

By the door an old Indian rocked to and fro on 
his haunches. He was as old as the mountain from 
which he came, and he had seen Benito Juarez and 
Maximilian in his youth. The room was blue with 
cigarette smoke and hot with humanity. The clink 
of glasses came from outside, where a woman was 
washing the coarse tumblers in a fountain in the 
patio; and through the door, where the cigarette 
smoke floated out in wisps across the light of the 
lamp, one caught a glimpse of the night sky, crisp 
with stars over the black masses of the neighbouring 
roofs. 

When the stir caused by our entry and introduc- 
tion had subsided, a seat was found for me, and a 
short man of almost pure Indian blood commenced 
speaking. In short, impassioned sentences he 
attacked the tyranny of the Diaz regime, and 
enumerated the virtues of Madero and his policy, 
till, working up to his climax, in which the hquid 
Spanish accents seemed to chill and turn to speech 
of diamond hardness, he threw out his hands to the 



THE SHOT-GUN JOURNALIST 163 

picture of Madero on the wall, and with dramatic 
suddenness ceased. A subdued buzz of "vivas" 
broke out, and general health was drunk to " Los 
rebeldes" (the rebels). Maps were brought out: 
I was shown the towns on the map where other 
Circles of " Red Liberals " were in being, and told 
the number of arms that they had in store. The 
North of the Republic had risen against the Tyrant ; 
the South was waiting for definite news, and then 
a wave of armed patriots would sweep the Presi- 
dency clear, and seat Madero in Chapultepec. I 
soon saw enough evidence to grasp that nothing 
could save the Government. Half their own men 
were sold to the rebels, while treachery stalked 
through the official circles, where a grim political 
throat-cutting was in progress. The real cause , cj- 
of the revolution was lack of promotion for the 1*^4 ^«^, 
younger generation — and senile decay of the older 
officials. 

Here were men who, outwardly staunch supporters 
of the existing regime, were intriguing night and 
day, and in order to grab some Government billet. 
They were typical Latin-American patriots ! 

It was now nearly three in the morning, and the 
conspirators proceeded to leave for their homes. 
They left one by one at intervals of about five 
minutes. In my case an exception was made, and 
accompanied by an earnest medical student, I left. 



c 



i64 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

Alone I should never have been able to find my way 
back. 

The medico boy was charming. He explained to 
me the feuds and rivalries of the Cruz Roja and the 
Cruz Azul (the Red Cross and the Blue Cross). It 
appeared that the Red Cross was run by Government 
men, and for that reason was not admitting wounded 
rebels to its field hospitals — in fact there were no 
wounded rebels. The Federals always put them 
out of their misery! I was deeply pained, and 
suggested that this was not usual in civilized 
warfare. 

The student was certain of it, and said that the 
Blue Cross, the rival amateur hospital — to which he 
belonged — attended to all poor Mexicans who were 
wounded, without any fine distinctions between the 
rebels and federals. 

Later, when we had trouble in the city, the pro- 
fessional pride of the rival organizations was delight- 
ful. The Red Cross people would not recognize 
the Blue Cross, and stretcher-bearers of the one 
party stole the dead and wounded from the stretchers 
of the other; or both abandoned wounded men 
because the rival crowd had claimed them. 

The assistants were mostly boy students and 
chemists, with a few ladies of mature years as 
nurses. I met one hero clinging to a lamp-post, 
being very sick indeed. The poor boy had just 



THE SHOT-GUN JOURNALIST i6s 

seen his first victim — a man who had been sabred 
during a cavalry charge. 

Their pride in their work was amazing: during 
the riots they chartered public cabs, and throwing 
over the hoods a sheet marked with the Blue Cross, 
paraded about the streets in the wake of the cavalry 
squadrons — ready and anxious for victims. 

The city was full of news and rumours of news. 
Finally the events began to draw closer, the hotels 
filled with the refugees and the white people 
sent their families to the States. When the train 
to the health resort of Cuernavaca was shot upon , 
the rubber expert, Dr. Olson Seffer, killed, within 
twenty miles of Mexico City, things began to look 
rather blue for the foreign residents; and every- 
where it was recognized that any invasion of Mexico 
by the U.S.A. would mean a massacre of foreigners 
throughout the Republic. 

Good stories were plentiful, and everybody who 
had " come in " from the wilder parts of the country 
had hair-raising yarns of Indian risings and local 
disturbances, but the difficulty was to get the news 
through to the States. At first the postal service 
was fairly reliable, but as the railroads were de- 
stroyed by the rebels and mail-vans burnt, it was 
not long before all chances of stuff getting through 
vanished. The cables were frequently interrupted, 
and the Federal Telegraph Service only worked 



i66 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

through a short radius round the capital. Soon all 
that was left to us was the Vera Cruz cable and 
postal route. 

I despatched any news by post till the officials 
hung out a notice, " Servicio interrompido " (Service 
interrupted), and then I foregathered in a saloon 
with other newspaper men and cursed the luck. 

Later I ran into an Englishman who lived outside 
the city, about five miles away. He was bursting 
with news of an outrage on a hacienda next to 
his own dairy farm. I drew him into a neighbour- 
ing saloon, swore him to silence, and collected a 
letter from him authorizing his servants to give 
me a horse and saddle; then went off by electric 
tram to his farm. 

The " mozos " (native servants) on the hacienda 
were very upset, and told me tales of squadrons 
of armed " revoltosos " riding by moonlight to out- 
lying haciendas. I discounted this news, picked 
a decent horse, and soon reached the scene of the 
outrage. 

Pickets of Rurales and cavalry were dotted about 
the fields, and the hacienda was full of officers and 
police examining scared Indians. On the doorstep 
hovered one or two Mexican pressmen, armed 
with notebooks and cameras ; evidently journalists 
were not welcome. 

I dismounted and gave my horse to a soldier to 



THE SHOT-GUN JOURNALIST 167 

hold. Going up to the door, I was stopped by an 
officer, who inquired my business. I explained 
that I wished to see the officer in command on 
urgent business. The lieutenant was unmoved; 
he wanted details, and I had to manufacture details 
at once. I told him that I was an Englishman 
from the neighbouring hacienda, and wished to be 
assured of efficient military protection for my pro- 
perty. To my annoyance he offered me a troop 
of men. I thanked him, but persisted that I must 
see the General, and insinuated that possibly there 
was dissatisfaction among my employes. This 
bait was swallowed, and I was passed in. 

The living-room of the hacienda was full of 
officials, and the General was engaged, so I talked 
to a local "jefe politico," and drew from him the 
story. It appeared that the rancho belonged to a 
family consisting of a father, two sons, and a 
daughter. Aroused by the barking of the dogs 
at about two o'clock in the morning, the younger 
son had risen and looked out into the corral. He 
saw men moving, and challenged them; as there 
was no reply he grabbed up a carbine and fired into 
the shadows. The raiders directed a return fire at 
his window, and the youth fell riddled with bullets. 

All secrecy was now thrown aside. The raiders, 
about twenty in number, broke in the door of the 
hacienda with the pole of a farm-waggon, and 



i68 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

rushed to loot it. From the tales of the servants 
it appeared that the old man and the son put up 
a fight, but were soon shot down, though it is 
certain that they wounded one or more of their 
assailants. 

The daughter was still alive. The poor thing 
sat among the crowd of officials attended by a 
couple of old peon women. Crouched on the floor 
at the feet of her murdered father and brother, she 
had covered her head with a shawl, and rocked to 
and fro sobbing continually. The men talked in 
subdued whispers, and the woman's sobs came at 
regular intervals, always on the same high note, 
like a man in the delirium of fever. Outside in 
the courtyard the soldiers joked with one another, 
and the noise of a horse shaking himself in his 
saddle seemed to show how utterly bored every- 
body was. 

According to Mexican law, bodies may not be 
moved until the authorities have viewed them, and 
upstairs in the little room over the gate lay the 
body of the youth who had fired on the rebels. 
He lay just as he had been left by them ; they had 
taken his rifle and cartridges, and the little room 
was all in disorder, the only thing untouched being 
a little crucifix above the narrow bed. "Ay que 
povre ! — si joven " (" Poor fellow ! — and so young ") 
said the sentry. 



THE SHOT-GUN JOURNALIST 169 

I collected the information, and telling the officer 
that as the General was so busy I would return 
later, I left the house. The journalists on the door- 
step besieged me. I regretted I could tell them 
nothing, and left for my friend's hacienda. As I 
returned his horse, up came an American corre- 
spondent. He inquired how things were, and I 
left him to find out. 

Back to the city and the post-office, and just in 
time for the mail. "Good!" I told myself; "that 
furnishes some Sunday reading for the Middle- 
West — two columns at least." 



CHAPTER XX 

A DAY'S WORK 

As I rode down the mountain trail into the crowded 
plaza I could see that the little Mexican town of 
Tamalpa was astir with unusual events. Here was 
history in the making, for the little adobe building 
with the proud inscription " Hotel Juarez," in sky- 
blue letters three feet high, on its whitewashed wall, 
was the headquarters of General Aamargo, Jefe del 
Battalion (Commander-in-Chief), of the Federal 
troops in the province of Michoacan. 

Dismounting at the door, the dusty and travel- 
tired correspondent inquired of the ragged and 
be-chevroned sergeant for the whereabouts of the 
General. The sergeant became pompous and 
dignified, puffing out his chest after the manner 
of a grandee of Spain, and laying his hand on the 
hilt of his bayonet, explained that the General was 
now engaged. 

Having been long in the country, I did not reply, 
but produced my cigar-case. The sentry's eyes 
brightened and his strained attitude relaxed as he 
accepted the bribe. 

170 



A DAY'S WORK 171 

With a flowery expression of gratitude, he gave 
me his rifle to hold, and disappeared in search of a 
superior officer. I leant the weapon against the 
jamb of the door, and, slackening the girths of my 
saddle, tied my horse to the veranda rail and sat 
down to await the sentry's return. 

The little market-square was ablaze with colour, 
the bright sashes and zerapes of the natives con- 
trasting vividly with the drab-coloured uniforms of 
the barefooted soldiery. The men were lounging 
about in groups, or resting in the shadows of the 
houses, while their women-folk bargained with the 
local natives for fruit and eatables, raising a shrill 
hubbub over their bargaining. Jests were being 
bandied to and fro, and in a corner of the plaza a 
small group laughed over the attempts of a girl who 
was trying to blow a bugle. Occasionally a mounted 
orderly would ride in at a canter, his pony's 
heels raising clouds of dust, and threatening the 
safety of the little semi-nude children who played 
amongst the stalls and stoned the thieving pariah 
dogs. 

Mexico was in revolt, and this was war-time — not 
manoeuvres, I thought, as I mentally contrasted the 
scene with the disciplined regimental camps that I 
had seen on Salisbury Plain. 

A touch on my shoulder brought my thoughts 
back from far-away England, and I found the sentry 



172 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

and a lieutenant at my elbow. Briefly I explained 
my mission and produced my credentials. 

"The senor has come to see the fighting?" said 
the lieutenant. " I am afraid that there will not be 
any, for the rebels are already losing heart — but to- 
morrow we commence a flanking movement!" He 
smiled with the self-conscious importance of a 
musical comedy major-general. "I" — he added, 
"am on the staff!" 

The sentry led away the tired horse while I 
followed the lieutenant into the temporary head- 
quarters, and was introduced to the little gathering. 
They were charming in their welcome. In a corner 
was a cane chair, in which reclined a fat little man in 
uniform. The occupant of the chair was snoring, 
and had spread a paper over his face to keep off 
the flies ; by his side rested a pair of dirty riding- 
boots, and I noted that he wore socks of a distinctive 
black-and-white tartan, and that the left sock needed 
darning. 

" That is General Aamargo," whispered the lieu- 
tenant. 

Food was brought, and soon, refreshed, I began 
to inquire for information. The dirty plates were 
taken away, and on the table one of the officers 
spread a much-stained map. Weighting this down 
at the corners with their glasses, the little group drew 
round, while the senior officer — a colonel of engineers 



A DAY'S WORK 173 

— demonstrated the plan of operations, tracing a 
toothpick along the faded lines. The General turned 
uneasily in his chair, and, after a moment's hesitation, 
resumed his snoring. 

" We are here — and there — and there lie our out- 
posts. The rebels, such as they are, have been 
encountered at so-and-so — a little 'affair of the 
outposts,' you know — a skirmish. To-morrow we 
commence a flanking action, and join General 
Navarrez's column at Morelia, sweeping the country 
clear," said the colonel, thrusting out his hands to 
illustrate the utterness of the proposed sweeping 
movement. 

After making a few notes, I was soon deep in a 
discussion on the virtues of English saddlery, when 
the General woke up, and I had to be formally pre- 
sented. 

The General was delighted. " The senor was on 
an American paper ?" 

" Yes, and would report the engagement fully." 

"Ah! excellent!" 

After a moment of silence and deep thought he 
went on : "I have no portrait of myself here, but " — 
and he brightened visibly — "perhaps the senor has 
a camera ?" 

Amidst universal rejoicings the senor admitted 
that he had, and departed to fetch it from his saddle- 
bag. On his return, he found the staff posed for- 



174 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

mally and rigidly in full sunlight on the veranda. 
The group was duly taken. Faithlessly the corre- 
spondent promised them all copies and noted down 
their addresses. 

The sun was now high, and the heat of the day 
was beginning to make itself felt, when an orderly 
arrived with despatches. 

They contained astonishing news ! General 
Navarrez had " suffered a reverse," and there would 
be no flanking movement : in fact, General Aamargo 
was to retire, at once on the pueblo of Santa Lucrecia, 
or his complete force might be cut off. 

An excited discussion was at once held, and 
orderlies were despatched to bring in all absent 
officers. In the plaza sounded strident bugle-calls, 
and the different companies formed up, while 
harassed sergeants and subalterns hunted the 
missing men out of the drinking-shops. 

Slowly and noisily the parade formed up, men 
finding their places and then falling out again to 
buy oranges or cigarettes from the market women. 
Hastily the camp-followers gathered their bundles 
and their children, and above all the hubbub rose 
the strident voices of the native women. All the 
inhabitants turned out to watch, and at last the 
column, with its little units of cavalry and mounted 
police, was ready to leave. 

The staff was already mounted, and the General 



A DAY'S WORK i75 

in person had appeared on parade ; no one paid any 
attention to him, and at last the advance guard of 
dusty cavalry moved off, followed by a section of 
mules carrying a venomous-looking but obsolete 
Nordenfeldt machine gun, whose twinkling gun- 
metal reflected the flashing rays of the sun. 

Slowly the procession left the town, and com- 
menced to climb the dusty mountain trail that 
formed the road. 

About half-way down the column, I rode alongside 
a straggling casual company of infantry, and talked 
with a sergeant. 

The latter was a cheery soul. He related how he 
had been forced to take up a military career as an 
alternative to going to gaol over the matter of some 
slight bickering, which left two of his neighbours 
stone dead in a drinking-bar. We criticized the 
General, his staff, his own officers, old Don Porfirio 
(the President), and lastly, on learning that the 
correspondent was English, not American, the 
sergeant became communicative. He disliked the 
Americans. His views were peculiar, but are not 
unusual in the Republic of Mexico, where education 
is rare. He held that Mexico was the biggest and 
most important State in the world ; and that next to 
Mexicans came the Chinese and Japanese, with 
whose help the Mexican nation (assisted by the 
sergeant) would capture Spain and kill Alfonso 



1/6 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

Trece, and would also seize Paris, a town where he 
had heard there were many beautiful women. It 
would be quite easy, for, after all, these places were 
only two or three days* march across the Rio 
Grande. 

In a sun-parched valley of the foot-hills, some few 
miles from the mountain pass, the column halted, 
checked by those in front, who were already lying 
down by the roadside. Immediately the men fell 
out and proceeded to rest. The subaltern and 
myself, more curious than the men, rode forward to 
inquire from the company in front why we were 
halted. "The road in front is blocked," said the 
officer ; " I expect it is the mules." 

As he spoke we heard murmurs up the road, and 
a mounted orderly appeared, cantering through the 
troops, and running the gauntlet of a continual fire 
of jests and shouted questions. When he saw the 
officers, he reined up and hastily inquired if they 
were the general staff. Before replying, the senior 
officer, a colonel of infantry, read the despatch, then 
replacing it in its envelope bade the orderly proceed 
with it to the General with all haste. 

"The pass is held by the rebels," said the 
colonel. 

Gravely the officers discussed the situation. 
Here was a column of some fifteen hundred infantry, 
an odd handful of cavalry, and three mountain guns 



A DAY'S WORK 177 

straggling all along some fifteen miles of mountain 
trail, between the township of Tamalpa and a 
mountain pass held by the rebels, and the town 
they had just left was threatened by a big column 
of mounted rebels, numbering, so said the spies' 
reports, between two and three thousand men. 

It was a cavalryman who first voiced the question : 
"There are no streams?" "No," said the colonel 
solemnly, looking at an infantryman with a bandaged 
arm ; "nothing but dust — and blood," 

News of the presence of the enemy now reached 
the men ; it flew like wild-fire down the road, from 
company to company, and the strength of the enemy 
gained as the news passed from mouth to mouth. 
" I wish they would hurry up," said the subaltern, 
and fidgeted with his sword knot. 

Down the trail rose the sound of hoofs, and a 
mounted officer appeared urging his foam-covered 
horse. " The guns are coming up," he shouted, and 
rode on to the front. 

Up the road came the guns, their drivers fit to 
burst with pride, and the artillery officers glowing 
with the joy of their mission. 

The men cheered the teams as they passed, and 
the bobbing little field-pieces in their canvas jackets 
looked as if they, too, were aware of the need for 
hurry. 

" Lucky beggars !" said the infantry officers. 

12 



178 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

" So long !" said I ; "I am going to see the 
fun." 

"Send us news," they shouted, and enviously 
watched me disappear into the dust cloud. 

Somewhere ahead the fitful rattle of musketry- 
fire could be heard. It seemed brief and disorgan- 
ized, occasionally swelling from a persistent inter- 
mittent rattle to a steady noise like hail upon a 
greenhouse roof. At one point a temporary field 
hospital had been established, and there lay a few 
men on litters, and my eye was caught by a 
miniature boiler that emitted steam furiously, and 
I suddenly remembered being shown over a big 
London hospital, and having seen these same 
boilers before. How out of place they seemed here ; 
the very appearance of them demanded the presence 
of trimly dressed hospital nurses. 

Below the crest of the rise was the firing-line, 
spread out on each side of the road in fan-shaped 
lines of skirmishers, and the cauldron of the hills 
echoed and re-echoed to the sharp double report of 
the Mausers. One gun team had come to grief- 
three horses down and two men killed. The enemy 
had bagged them as they came over the rise. The 
survivors were cutting them clear, and soon were 
under cover, placing the gun next to its brothers. 

Somewhere on the left flank a harsh rattle an- 
nounced that the Nordenfeldt was again in going 



A DAY'S WORK 179 

order, and it continued to crash at intervals, until 
another jamb disabled it. 

The guns joined the chorus, and puffs of yellowish 
smoke began to appear over the opposite hill-side. 
There was nothing much to see, only an occasional 
puff of white smoke, showing that some rebel was 
using an old black-powder rifle, being the only 
sign, the scrub and boulders completely hiding the 
enemy. 

The day dragged on until the skirmishers were 
within 200 yards or less of the enemy's lines, and 
an attempt was made to rush their position by a 
handful of Federal troops led by two mounted 
officers. The attack failed, and the remnant of the 
little drab-coloured force beat a hasty retreat ; one of 
the horses, now riderless, threw up its head and tore 
madly along the firing-line in its death-gallop. 

The reserves were brought up and concentrated 
behind the ridge, and slowly the engagement went 
on. Both sides were husbanding their ammunition, 
and the battery was almost silent, only sending an 
occasional shell now and then. 

Cartridges and water were both scarce, and 
wounded men filtered back from the firing-line to be 
attended to, their places being taken by fresh men 
from the reserves. 

Riding back over the rise, I was met by an excited 
field officer. " Go over to the right flank," he said . 



i8o A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

"our cavalry are massing for the turning move- 
ment." 

In a little valley the cavalry stood by their horses 
and joked and chatted over the battle. I joined the 
general staff, and was rewarded by being told the 
news : "A scout has come in from General Navarrez, 
who is making a forced march to attack the rebels 
and clear the pass for us — we expect him before 
nightfall ; meantime we are going to attack this 
flank as soon as a feint attack is delivered on the 
left." 

The time dragged on, and the shadows of the hills 
began to creep across the valley before the sound of 
heavy firing announced the commencement of the 
feint. The guns added their covering fire to the 
general din, and at last the cavalry moved forward 
to the attack. 

Tying up my horse, I climbed with one or two 
officers of the infantry to a crag whence a view of 
the movement could be obtained. The cavalry, in 
close formation, rode on unchecked, their scouts not 
more than a hundred yards ahead of the main body. 
A scattered shot or two was the only response from 
the enemy's pickets, who could be seen retreating 
towards the centre of their position. The cavalry 
line began to wheel to the left, when the scouts on 
the advanced flank suddenly fired and turned to ride 
back to the troops. With the speed of thought, a 



A DAY'S WORK i8i 

line of riflemen appeared as if out of the ground, and 
opened fire at close range on the grouped cavalry. 
The enemy had been concealed in a dry river- 
bed, and had held their fire. The Federals were 
trapped. 

Individual sections charged, but were shot to 
pieces ; those that reached the firing-line being 
stopped by the ravine, on the farther side of which 
were the rebel infantry. The others seeing what 
had happened, and with their ranks already in dis- 
order, beat a hasty retreat, and, covered by a dust 
cloud, the disorganized rout swept over the ridge 
and spread panic through the reserves before they 
could be re-formed. The attack had cost them a 
third of their men, and had failed to turn the 
position. 

Infantry were speedily rushed forward to prevent 
the advance of the enemy, but it was soon apparent 
that they were abandoning their line of defence ; it 
was, however, too strongly covered to attack while 
the retreat was in progress. 

The noise of battle died down, and an hour later 
the Federal outposts were in touch with Navarrez's 
cavalry ; the enemy had retreated to the hills, and at 
last the pass was clear. 

That night the column reached Santa Lucrecia, 
and the correspondent made his way to the head- 
quarters of the G.O.C. 



i82 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

" A splendid action," said the General ; " an 
heroic triumph of the Federal arms; over twice 
our strength of rebels defeated — ^yes, in every way 
a victory." 

There must have been at least a thousand rebels 
present, mused the correspondent, as he went to the 
telegraph office. " H'm — well, I suppose it is a 
victory !" 



CHAPTER XXI 

BIVOUAC 

The squadron halted for the night. We were far 
out among the hills, and hoped to get in touch 
with the enemy at any minute ; men and horses 
were covered with fine white dust of the trail, and 
all were tired. We had a hard day's ride and were 
feeling saddle-cramped, so when we reached the 
bivouac ground it was a relief that we had no 
tiresome ceremonial of tent-erecting and camp duty 
to commence. The men dismounted and sat by 
their horses smoking cigarettes till their mounts 
were cooler, and they could take the saddles off. 

Over the ragged peaks of the sierras half the 
red disk of the setting sun was visible, and from 
the rocky sky-line spread the blood-red streamers of 
a Mexican sunset. The heat of the day still 
radiated from the ground, but the evening air was 
cool and refreshing. The sinking sun threw the 
long blue shades of the mountain across the valley, 
and exaggerated the grotesque shadows of the 
resting horses. The figure of a mounted outpost 
stood out on the crest of a foot-hill black against 

183 



i84 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

the crimson sky. We had no tents, no commis- 
sariat, and Httle drinking water. The horses were 
luckier, for they were being watered from a muddy 
pond that lay below us on the hill-side, further 
down which lay a whitewashed hacienda and its 
little village of dove-coloured huts nestling against 
its walls. The officers' mess was short of food, so 
I contributed a tin of devilled ham and a bottle 
of Sunnybrook whisky, and joined two private 
soldiers who were going on a foraging expedition. 
We set off on foot towards the village, whence the 
noise of poultry and the bleating of goats gave 
rich promise of satisfying food. The first robber, 
who answered to the honoured name of Benito 
Juarez, produced a fathom or two of thin line and 
fashioned it into a lasso. When we reached the 
outskirts of the village a flock of turkeys guarded 
by a small boy appeared. The second robber and 
the hungry journalist engaged the boy in conver- 
sation, standing between him and the turkeys. A 
muffled squawk and a fluttering reached us, and 
we knew that Benito had secured his bird. Con- 
science-stricken, I gave the boy a packet of cigar- 
ettes, and we proceeded. 

The village store and a few stalls soon yielded 
ample supplies of tinned foods, fruit, etc. I was 
foolish enough to pay for mine, but my companions 
disbursed no money over their transactions. Leav- 



BIVOUAC 185 

ing the inhabitants to their lamentations, we 
returned heavily laden to the camp, Benito 
dragging the corpse of the turkey out of its 
hiding-place on the way back. 

It was a lovely supper, and afterwards we sat 
round the camp-fire — not a big fire such as the 
white man builds, but a little glowing charcoal fire 
of Indian construction. Possibly it was not so 
picturesque, but, anyway, it was warm. The 
sentries whistled at intervals, and the men sat in 
little groups, while the ungroomed horses chafed 
at their pickets. 

In the dark the men's cigarette ends glowed 
incessantly, and finally each man wrapped his head 
in his overcoat and turned in on the ground. 
There was a false alarm during the night, and 
the continual interruptions of changing guard and 
chasing off strange dogs disturbed our slumber. 
Somewhere in the dark two coyotes sung their 
hideous love-songs, and the camp dogs howled 
challenges. 

By daybreak we were mounted and off, my 
servant, Luis, blue with cold and disliking moving 
without breakfast, grumbling as he packed my 
saddle-bags. Luis was a luxury, but I wanted 
him to carry in news if I should stay with the 
squadron. Far ahead of us rode the scouts ; 
finally one came up to the captain with a badly 



i86 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

scared peon in convoy. The squadron halted, and 
a whisper ran down the ragged ranks that some 
rebels were at a little village of Santa Lucrecia, 
about half an hour's ride distant. A grey-clad 
Rurale detached himself from his unit and informed 
the captain that he knew the country. 

We moved off again, and the young lieutenant 
gave me the "general idea" of the attack. We 
were to outflank the village, while our machine-gun 
covered the only road down which the enemy 
could retreat. It would be a "cinch." He used 
the American slang word and laughed joyously. 
Under cover of a hill we halted and divided our 
forces. I elected to go with the lieutenant and 
his flanking party, as I thought we should be first 
in the village, and there were hopes of loot. Led 
by the Rurale, we turned aside from the trail, and, 
with the horses picking their way cautiously along 
the stony hill-side, went to take up our position. 
The main body were to fire first, but we hoped 
for a complete surprise. 

The hacienda was a small one, and the village 
only consisted of a few dozen adobe huts set 
round a small square of open ground. They 
nestled against the yellow parched valley, and a 
few dust-laden trees surrounded the houses. Near 
a well was a group of horses guarded by two 
men in scarlet blankets. The clear air and the 



BIVOUAC 187 

bright glare of the morning sun made the group 
stand out like objects in a panorama, while the 
crowing of cocks in the village sounded so dis- 
tinctly that one listened instinctively for human 
voices. Our route was longer than we anticipated, 
and before we had reached our station a few 
dropping shots announced that the enemy were 
on the alert and had discovered the main body. 
We came out into a field of magueys, and saw the 
village about half a mile away. High up on the 
hill-side, where the trail debouched, the main body 
were deploying like ants among the scrub and 
boulders ; the little groups of horses, held by a 
mounted man, were plainly discernible, and soon 
seemed absorbed by the hill-side, as they took 
advantage of the cover. The rebels were hurriedly 
taking up positions of defence and replying to the 
fire from the hills with hasty shots. 

The peppering continued, and we remained 
unnoticed. Half our little force was dismounted, 
and the other half held in reserve for cavalry pursuit. 
Not having a rifle I remained mounted, and watched 
our men creep from cover to cover. They had been 
ordered not to fire, and had covered half the 
distance before they were noticed by the rebels, 
who immediately opened fire. 

Our side of the village began to shoot out little 
cotton-woolly puff's of smoke, and an occasional 



i88 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

bullet would whine overhead, or plop through the 
maguey leaves with the rip of tearing calico. The 
firing on the hill-side was getting louder and more 
frequent, and the village bell started an excited 
clanging. We moved up and met two men carry- 
ing a wounded cavalryman. He had been shot 
through the body, and only lived a few minutes 
more. 

The lieutenant gazed at the hill-side. 

" We are to rush the village when they fire the 
Maxim," he said. We brought up our mounted 
reserve — men and horses chafing under the restraint. 
All our attention was centred on the attack. Surely 
the captain would give the signal soon ! Only two 
hundred yards of flat country before we reached the 
village ; down wind came the smell of dust and the 
sour smell of smokeless powder, and we could see 
the enemy among the buildings. The church bell 
still clanged furiously, and the screams of the women 
reached us. There was a lull in the firing, and the 
noise of cocks crowing in the village came to our 
ears like the sudden shock of a chime striking in a 
crowded city. 

Then far up the hill-side came the stabbing 
staccato bark of the Maxim. 

We went in with a rush, and our line of 
skirmishers rose under our hoofs to race back to 
the held horses in order to join us. I saw the 



BIVOUAC 189 

skirmishing line of the main body break cover and 
rush for the houses ; and then, in clouds of dust and 
with the stones cast up b}'^ the horses in front 
stinging our faces, we charged on. 

Our horses jumped the rough hedges of the little 
gardens outside the village, and, midst a confused 
noise of cracking canes, shots, shouts, and curses, 
we raced into the little square. The man riding 
next to me swerved straight across my front, and 
both of us came down together. I was thrown clear 
over his horse and crawled to the shelter of a house 
wall, unhurt but badly shaken. I could not see the 
other man, but I hoped that he was damaged — I was 
so wild at his clumsiness. The square was thick 
with dust, and whirling figures could be seen ; the 
shooting had ceased, and after a confused moment 
or so, a trumpet sounded the recall furiously. 

The rebels went out at one end of the village as 
we came in at the other, and most of the mounted 
men followed them. Upon the hill-side the angry 
Maxim chattered as they fired belt after belt at the 
flying rebels. 

I bumped into the lieutenant, wha was the centre 
of a group of screaming villagers. Slowly the con- 
fusion died down, the remainder of the main body 
drew up, and the men slowly came back to re-form. 
There was little looting, a few prisoners were taken, 
and an occasional shot or two announced an 



190 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

" execution." The headmen of the village were 
summoned and tied up. I wrote a hasty account of 
the skirmish; found my servant Luis (who had 
stolen four hens, which I confiscated) and sent him 
off to my agent in Mexico City. He was glad to go. 

An hour later we had re-formed, leaving the 
prisoners to go back under escort to the city, and 
were on the march again. 

There would be a feast that night ! Every saddle 
was hung with bundles of edible loot, and live 
chickens hung head downwards from the carbine 
buckets. It had been a great and decisive victory. 
Back in the village the women sobbed in the houses, 
while dead children lay out amongst the down- 
trodden corn. 



CHAPTER XXII 

A "SCRAP" BEFORE BREAKFAST 

At half-past six one morning my horse was brought 
round by the groom, and I came sleepily down the 
steps of my lodging to take an early ride. As I put 
my foot in the stirrup Gonzalez clattered round the 
corner and pulled up short. 

" Hullo \ Where are you off to at this time of the 
morning ?" said he. 

I told him I was just off for a ride, with no par- 
ticular object in view. 

" Well, come along with me. I am going out with 
a troop to the hills round El Desierto. The rebels 
have been reported there, but I expect it is only a 
few bandits robbing outlying ranches ; anyway, 
come along for the trip ; it's a lovely ride." 

I jumped at the opportunity, and accepted his 
invitation. " Wait half a minute while I get my 
camera," I said, and I bolted into the house and 
hastily buckled on my war-paint, camera, revolver, 
water-bottle, and field-glasses, put some chocolate 
and a tin of tobacco in my pockets, and rejoined him. 

191 



192 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

We rode along together to the citadel, where he 
was going to pick up his troop. 

Gonzalez was a nice boy, a lieutenant in the 
Presidential Guard. He was very pleased with 
his first command on "active service," and as 
he rode through the gates of the citadel into the 
barrack square, the sunlight glittered on the silver 
lace and buttons of his uniform, making a vivid 
contrast with the ragged little troop of regular 
cavalry that formed his command. 

The troop numbered thirty men and a sergeant ; 
there was also a corporal, but he was of no im- 
portance. 

The men were dressed in dirty grey uniforms, and 
wore the cheese-cutter caps of the American Civil 
War period. They were all born horsemen, and sat 
their rough little horses with the unmistakable air 
of men who had practically lived in the saddle. 
Their arms consisted of a Mauser carbine and a plain 
cavalry sabre, both of which were shockingly ill- 
kept; in fact, all the accoutrements were old and dirty. 

Discipline in the Mexican Army is an airy phan- 
tasy ; smartness unheard of. I have frequently seen 
troops on ceremonial duty smoking cigarettes or 
leaving the ranks to purchase oranges while their 
comrades presented arms. 

Gonzalez flushed a little when he examined his 
command. He had been used to the Presidential 







> (V- 



o 



J rJ 



A "SCRAP" BEFORE BREAKFAST 193 

Guard, who did look clean on parade, although they 
were absolutely useless as a fighting force. 

The sergeant explained that they had no ammuni- 
tion — or rather, only about six cartridges among the 
bunch. Inquiries elicited the fact that it had been 
" lost," or, in other words, the men had sold it at two 
cents a cartridge in order to buy cigarettes. 

While fresh ammunition was being served out and 
counted, Gonzalez explained to me that it did not 
matter, as we were only going to make a recon- 
naissance. We sat on our horses and talked, while 
the lieutenant's orderly, whose duties combined 
those of servant and bugler — and who was also drawn 
from the Presidential Guard — confided to me his 
views concerning the regular cavalry and army in 
general. He was very bitter, as he would have to 
clean the lieutenant's uniform after the trip. As 
we waited an elderly staff officer approached and 
questioned my presence. Gonzalez explained that I 
was an English journalist, but rather better known 
as a gentleman rider of race-horses. The staff 
officer still insisted that I was an undesirable ahen. 
However, I gave him a cigar, the address of the 
English tailor who had cut my riding-breeches, and 
my promise not to cable undesirable news should 
we see any fighting. 

After about half an hour's delay we set off, Gon- 
zalez and myself riding ahead, the orderly, smoking 

J3 



194 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

a big cigar, following us, and the sergeant bringing 
up the rear of the troop in order to see that no one 
got lost. Noisily and impressively we clattered 
through the streets of the City of Mexico, meeting 
other troops here and there. 

We passed a perfunctory kind of salute and 
exchanged a few inquiries as to news of the rebels ; 
then with a cross-fire of coarse jests the troops 
would move on again, the soldiers cheerfully insult- 
ing every respectable woman we passed. 

I entertained the sergeant, the orderly, and lieu- 
tenant Gonzalez with an account of fox-hunting as 
practised in England, while they in return told me 
long tales of military love affairs. Slowly we left 
the outskirts of the city and began to climb the foot- 
hills of the mountains. Trees now began to get 
-more scarce, and the wide fields of magueys were 
replaced by desolate stretches of withered grass 
bearing a heavy crop of stones and boulders. Soon 
the made road, with rough hedges on either side, 
ran out into a winding track where the white dust 
lay inches deep and rose in clouds beneath our 
horses' feet. 

Occasionally we would meet little caravans of 
Indians driving in their donkeys laden with bundles 
of country produce, or crates of native pottery. 
They gave the soldiery a wide berth, and if ques- 
tioned, were invariably sullen and scared, return- 



A "SCRAP" BEFORE BREAKFAST 195 

ing the invariable answer, "Quien sabe?" (Who 
knows ?) to all inquiries. 

Rounding a bend in the trail, we came across two 
corpses laid across the road. A sharp command 
from the lieutenant halted the troop, and we urged 
our frightened horses nearer the bodies. From 
what was left we could see that they had been 
Rurales, two of the crack mounted police corps, but 
they had been stripped of everything of value, muti- 
lated in the true Indian manner, and the desecrated 
corpses laid across the trail for all to view. 

They lay there in the sunlight, their faces and skin 
olive-grey in colour, a heavy blue growth of beard 
on jowl and cheek. Their feet and hands had been 
severed, the feet lay by the stumps of the arms, 
while the legs terminated in a grotesque hand turned 
palm upwards to the sky. The bodies had been 
ripped up, and the ghastly heads were earless. 
We could not find the ears, they had probably been 
kept as mementoes by the rebels. On a stunted 
pepper-tree by the side of the trail sat two black 
vultures, and above us in the brazen sky more black 
dots hovered and swung in hungry circles. 

The sergeant and three of the men carried the 
bodies a few paces and tipped them into a dry 
stream-bed. It was evidently here that the ambush 
had taken place, for among the stones and debris 
shone the bright metal of an empty cartridge-case. 



196 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

A few big stones and a caving in of the banks 
completed a hasty burial. 

The sergeant wiped his hands on a tuft of grass, 
lit another cigarette, and the troop cantered on. 

Lieutenant Gonzalez was impressed by the 
advertisement the rebels had left, and was visibly 
paler. The men took it rather as a joke, and dis- 
cussed its anatomical features among themselves. 
I felt that the sunlight was indecent, and that the 
whole dusty landscape was one outrageous jest at 
the expense of our little column. 

We halted and held a council of war in which the 
sergeant and the orderly led a chorus of assent 
from the troop. It was decided to send out two 
men ahead as scouts or advance guard. The 
sergeant sent off the sullen corporal, and our lead- 
ing trooper humorist, who was the life and soul of 
the party and stank like a distillery. 

I urged that flanking parties and a rearguard 
should also be sent out ; but my seed fell on stony 
ground, because the men did not like being sepa- 
rated. However, my repeated suggestion that the 
carbines should be loaded was acted on, and the 
casual commando resumed its march. 

The dusty trail was covered with tracks, and at 
one point I drew Gonzalez's attention to a point 
where a number of horsemen had crossed the trail. 

I am afraid he thought me very officious, and dis- 



A "SCRAP" BEFORE BREAKFAST 197 

regarded my suggestion that these trails were not 
more than an hour or two old, but in a few moments 
he recovered his temper, and telling the orderly to 
drop back, he mentioned in strict confidence that he 
did not quite know what to do if they should come 
across some rebels. Could I, who had seen this 
kind of thing in Morocco, tell him ? 

I said that I would give advice if necessary. But 
as I knew that everybody would be giving advice, 
I prayed fervently that we should meet no trouble. 

This I did not tell the lieutenant. 

The trail was getting steeper. Mountains that 
before had seemed masses of blue haze were 
becoming clear, and the green colour of the pine 
forests was discernible; here and there wisps of 
white cloud hung round the peaks, and low sheets 
of mist floated below us in the valley. Far below 
we could see the spires and chimneys of the City of 
Mexico, and beyond it the blue glint of the lakes 
and the Viga Canal. 

Ahead of us, about two hundred yards, the figures 
of the scouts showed on the crest of the hill. 
Gradually the distance between us lessened, and in 
a short time the scouts were not more than thirty 
yards ahead. They were getting lonesome. 

Gonzalez noticed it, asking the sergeant to spur 
forward and advise the men to get on ahead. 
Amiably the sergeant went forward and proceeded to 



198 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

borrow a cigarette from them while he communicated 
the order. 

We had now reached the bottom of a little valley 
between the hills, and the trail crossed one or two 
dried-up watercourses, usually called "barrancas." 
In front of us stretched the wooded hill-side, though 
we were still in open country, and the only bush 
was along the banks of the " barrancas." 

Somewhere in the fringe of wood a rifle cracked, 
and as the echoes still rattled among the hills, our 
valiant scouts came tearing in. They returned to 
the troop with their horses at full gallop and raising 
clouds of dust. All the other horses pranced and 
curveted, while the men cursed them and jagged 
the savage Mexican bits in their mouths. An aim- 
less chorus of instruction and curses rose, above 
which the sergeant could be heard shouting, " Son 
los rebeldes ! los rebeldes !" (The rebels ! the 
rebels !) 

The rebels, seeing that their ambush had failed 
because of that nervous accidental shot, opened fire. 

From the fringe of the wood and along the line of 
a " barranca " rose little woolly puffs of smoke, and 
the air round us seemed full of things that buzzed 
and whirred. 

A horse screamed shrilly, plunged forward for a 
pace, and then sat down on his quarters like a dog. 
The rider jumped clear of the saddle, and stared at his 



A "SCRAP" BEFORE BREAKFAST 199 

mount. He jagged the bit, but the horse would not 
rise. A bullet struck up the dust by his feet, and 
he seemed to realize all of a sudden what was 
happening. With a shrill whimper he unslung his 
carbine and took cover in the ditch. 

The troops stood paralyzed, bunched together, 
staring at the mountain-side, their faces tense with 
astonishment. I had dismounted. 

" Put the horses in the ' barranca ' !" I shouted to 
him, and tried to tell him to make the men take 
cover; but my Spanish gave out, and all I could 
say was, "Abajo" (lower), and patted at the 
ground with my hand. 

The "barranca" afforded slight cover for the 
horses, but standing them close in under the bank, 
we only lost one more. The men lay along the edge 
and fired casually. At the bottom of the " barranca " 
lay two dead men and two seriously wounded. Out 
on the trail the sergeant lay face down in the dust ; 
his cigarette still smouldered, sending a little 
column of grey smoke up into the stagnant air. 

An occasional bullet struck the edges of the 
trench and ricochetted over us with a high musical 
note. At last the enemies' fire seemed to slacken, 
and I crawled to where Gonzalez was looking out 
at the hill-side. His face was pinched and drawn, 
and he seemed to be years older. (This skirmish had 
made him into a soldier, and the men were behav- 



200 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

ing well.) As I crawled up he passed his tongue 
over his dry, dust-caked lips, and whispered that the 
rebels seemed to be over a hundred rifles strong. 
Through our field-glasses we gazed at the woods. 
I knew the rebels were closing down under cover 
of the bush as their fire had dropped by sections, 
as some unseen messenger reached them. The 
shots that continued came from the same places, 
and were evidently a covering fire. 

With an empty cartridge-case I sketched our 
position in the dust, and pointed out our open 
defenceless flank towards which the enemy were 
moving. 

Gonzalez looked regretful, but he nodded, and 
together we slid down the bank into the " barranca." 

Quickly the horse-holders led out the horses 
from cover ; the wounded men were handed up, 
and the rifles and bandoliers of the dead tied to 
the saddles. The men were alert and steady; all 
trace of their slackness had been sloughed off. I 
remembered the Rurales on the road and shud- 
dered. There were no spare horses to carry 
corpses. 

The little party on the bank kept up a covering 
fire, and with a rush the remains of the troop left 
cover and galloped up the hill. 

The rebel fire broke out fiercely, and the crest 
of the hill, behind which was cover and the road 



A "SCRAP" BEFORE BREAKFAST 201 

to safety, seemed miles away. Bent low over our 
saddles, and casting glances back at that deadly 
wood, we galloped and soon were over. 

The wounded and their escort streamed down 
the dusty trail, while the orderly and I waited 
below the crest for the covering party and the 
lieutenant to rejoin us. 

We could see them in the little " barranca " getting 
mounted and ready for a burst for cover. One had 
been hit and had to be helped into his saddle. Up 
the trail they came, through the hail of fire, the 
white dust cloud drifting behind them. Together 
we - 11 galloped down from the crest, and soon were 
safe under cover behind a spur of mountain. The 
echoes died down and the vultures came streaming 
in from the mountains. 

We reached the citadel, and rode in to report. 

It was past two o'clock in the afternoon, and I 
suddenly realized that I had not breakfasted. 

" There are no rebels," said the Censor of Military 
News, " only exaggerated reports of bandits in the 
mountains !" 



CHAPTER XXIII 

UNDER FIRE ON THE RAILROAD 

At the time of which I write the rebels had sur- 
rounded the State of Mexico, and all communications 
to the north were interrupted. All train service was 
disconnected, and the capital was more or less 
isolated. It is true that one cable line was open, but 
this was controlled by the Federal authorities. Wild 
rumours were current in the city. Only one thing 
seemed certain, and that was that the cordon of 
rebels were actually drawn up round the city and 
were only awaiting the arrival of reinforcements 
from the south. 

Once reinforced the city was at their mercy, and 
they could force the resignation of General Diaz. 

It was at this juncture that I had to leave. 

My passage was booked, and my heavy luggage 
was already at the port of Vera Cruz. 

Going round to a friend of mine at the railway 
terminus, I asked him how matters stood, and he 
explained that there were three wrecks on the line, 
and no train had run for three days, but they were 
going to try and run one that afternoon. 

202 



UNDER FIRE ON THE RAILROAD 203 

We went down into the almost empty station and 
watched the soldiers removing a cartful of wounded 
and dead Federals, from a train which had arrived 
just previously. 

Barefooted orderlies from the military hospital ran 
around with stretchers, whilst women camp-fol- 
lowers cooked food or waged war with the gaunt 
dogs that tried to investigate their bundles. All 
around was most insanitary confusion. Flies settled 
on the dead and on the food, and people with 
typhoid drank out of the same bottles as the 
wounded. Two rival volunteer nursing associations 
— the " Red Cross " and the " Blue Cross " — who 
hated one another with true Indian hatred, conspired 
vigorously against each other, while the wounded 
still lay in rows in the sun. Near by two American 
locomotive engineers laughed with thorough appre- 
ciation over an American paper with headlines 
referring joyously to " Cohmc Opera Revolution " in 
Mexico, and brilliantly irresponsible comments on 
the situation. 

My friend introduced me to the engineer who was 
to take out the afternoon train. He seemed despon- 
dent, but cheered up over a drink, and gave a highly 
coloured account of a car full of dead colonels and 
generals he had found. The rebels were fond of 
mutilation. He explained in most sulphurous 
phrases what he would do if they interfered with 



204 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

his engine, and gave an entertaining account of an 
Indian who tried to steal a brass cock off a boiler 
full of steam. Altogether he exerted quite a cheer- 
ing influence. 

I went back to collect my small belongings, and 
after stowing a few tins of food in my hand-bag in 
case of a train wreck occurring miles from any- 
where, I went down to the depot again. I found 
the train made up and the engine waiting with a full 
head of steam, while extra supplies of wood (they 
are wood burners) were piled on the tender. The 
Pullman coach was next to the engine, then came an 
ordinary coach (third class) for the natives ; another 
similar coach containing forty Federal soldiers 
brought up the rear. 

I stood on the platform and talked over the situa- 
tion with the other Pullman passengers and the 
conductor. My fellow passengers consisted of an 
American mining engineer, who was dressed in the 
khaki of his profession ; a German merchant of half- 
Mexican parentage ; and two other Mexicans of the 
upper classes. The Pullman conductor was an 
American, and the porter an American negro. As 
we absorbed a final cocktail, the mining engineer 
hopefully remarked that he trusted he would have a 
stomach left by the time we reached Vera Cruz — if 
we ever did. 
The porter began to ring the bell, and we got 



UNDER FIRE ON THE RAILROAD 205 

aboard and settled down in the little smoking com- 
partment to enjoy the ride. That is to say, to watch 
for signs of trouble. 

We had travelled about thirty kilometres when 
we stopped at a little station. We got out to stretch 
our legs, and consulted the telegraph clerk regarding 
the situation. 

"There are no rebels in the vicinity. True, my 
wires are cut, but that might be anybody. It is not 
my business to repair them." And, " Have any of 
the senores a spare packet of cigarettes ?" said he. 

We went on, feeling relieved. 

About half an hour later I was sitting in the Pull- 
man with the porter when a window on my right 
was suddenly smashed by a bullet. There was im- 
mediate uproar, and we found that a party of men, 
about seventy yards off, were racing towards the 
track, firing as they came. Several bullets hit the 
coach, and we felt the jump as the engineer threw 
open the engine-throttle and let her go at full speed 
ahead. I was still looking out of the window when 
the coach began to rock. It was obvious that we 
were off the line, and as I felt the wheels bumping 
over the ties I made for the centre alley-way between 
the seats and sat down on the floor. The coach nearly 
tipped over, but there was a crash as the steam- 
brake came on and we settled down; the noise 
stopped and the shrill scream of escaping steam was 



206 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

heard. The conductor began to curse. "Those 

rebels have ditched us !" he said. 

I went out on the rear platform of the Pullman. 
The third-class passengers — all Mexicans — were 
still screaming, and the soldiers were jumping 
out of the windows of their coach. The Pullman 
and the third-class coach were off the rail entirely, 
but the hind bogie of the soldiers' car and the 
express waggon remained on the lines. The engine 
and tender were on their sides in the ditch. 

A sergeant ran to the edge of the track and 
shouted an order. As he spoke the rebels opened 
fire, and he fell over before his sentence was finished, 
the words tailing off into a murmur as he died. 
Speedily the soldiers tumbled out of the train and 
took cover on the opposite side. A burst of firing 
broke out behind them, and we became aware that 
we were ambushed on both sides. Bullets were 
striking the coaches and knocking up little spurts of 
dust on the track. Above the general uproar you 
could hear them beating on the engine and tender. 

We passengers at once took cover in the Pullman. 
The soldiers crept under the carriages and began to 
fire from behind the wheels. About twenty men, 
under a young lieutenant, rushed for a borrow pit (a 
shallow depression from which earth had been dug 
to raise the track), the walls of which afforded some 
slight cover. 



•^^ 



m 



V'-i 




UNDER FIRE ON THE RAILROAD 207 

We gathered at the smoke-room and lavatory end 
of the Pullman, the nickelled basins seeming to give 
a pleasing suggestion of armour plate, and there we 
sat on the floor. As v^e could see nothing, and the 
firing came in gusts, the inaction soon told on our 
nerves, so the mining man and myself crawled into 
the body of the coach. At the far end a Mexican 
lay on the floor, and as we came in he raised his 
head, and I could see that he was utterly panic- 
stricken. There were no windows left, and the dust- 
screens were torn ; outside in the brilliant sunlight 
the rebels could be seen. Puffs of smoke rose here 
and there from the line, for some were using old- 
fashioned-black powder rifles; they deployed in a 
rough fan-shape, and the horses could be plainly 
seen, while one or two dead or wounded lay out in 
the open. 

Although we were non-combatants and it was not 
our fight, the mining man and I both got into action 
with our carbines. I remember now that we did not 
say a word, but started mutually. I felt that it was 
all hopeless, and wished the end would come. I re- 
loaded mechanically and fired fairly quickly, but 
soon got more careless about exposing myself as I 
aimed. 

The nigger porter joined us, and I remember 
he looked very old and very dazed. Report after 
report came from underneath the carriage; down 



208 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

the line somewhere a woman screamed incessantly, 
always on the same note ; bullets came through the 
coach, and whenever one passed through the folded 
berths it twanged on the wire mattress, and pieces of 
the coverings flew out through the hole. The porter 
remarked, " Lordy, Lordy ! who's agwine to pay for 
all dat ?" He turned to me to say something, and I 
heard a noise like a melon being crushed — he fell 
towards me with his head blown in. I let him 
down gently to the floor, but he was killed instantly. 
Some of the floor was now messy, so I shifted to 
another window. 

The enemy w^ere getting closer, and the mining 
man touched me on the shoulder. "Chuck the 
carbine — it's the surrender act for us," he said. 

I spun the carbine out of the window, hid my 
revolver under a seat, and joined the others in the 
smoking-room. The conductor had a shot arm, 
but no one else was hurt. 

All sounds of firing had died down, and a native 
was waving a white rag on the platform of the third- 
class coach. A soldier got up, and throwing down 
his rifle, ran to meet the advancing rebels ; he waved 
his hands in the air, but they closed in and shot him 
down with their revolvers. 

They dashed up to the wreck reeling in their 
saddles, red-eyed with the passion of the fight, and 
shouting, "Muera los Federales ?" "Viva Madero!" 



UNDER FIRE ON THE RAILROAD 209 

and fired revolvers into the wreck at close range. 
Two of them dismounted and killed a wounded 
Federal, cutting him to pieces with machetes. 

The main body reached us, and a mad scene of 
excitement took place. Men took rifles and 
bandoliers and looted the dead. Women screamed 
and tried to save their pots and pans, while the men 
laughed and shouted rough jests to one another. 
A group of them approached the Pullman, and 
levelling their rifles at us, told us to put up our 
hands; this we did — very quickly. We were told 
to leave the coach and stand along the side of the 
track. The Mexican passengers spoke up for us, 
pleading that we were inoffensive travellers and 
non-political, that we should not be molested. 
Finally a leader rode up and inquired who we were. 
I said that I was a journalist and an Englishman, 
and absolutely harmless, my one aim in life being to 
get to my own country as quickly as possible for 
the Coronation. A great discussion now took place, 
and it seemed as if we were due to make an exit ; 
the only point in doubt being whether we should be 
shot at once or kept for amusement later. We 
hoped they would not delay. Finally they sobered 
down, and we were searched for arms or money. I 
had hidden some of my money inside my hat-band, 
the rest in my boots ; but I had kept out a few small 
bills and some cash, which was enough to satisfy my 

14 



210 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

robber. He examined my watch, but finding it was 
a dollar Ingersoll, returned it. I then borrowed a 
cigarette from him, and crumbling it up, filled my 
pipe. My big English pipe then became an object 
of great interest and amusement, and was sampled 
by several rebels. They decided that it was an 
acquired taste, and returned it to me. 

They were all very keen for news of the campaign, 
and I told them all the news and invented a good 
deal more. Just then it was discovered that the 
lieutenant was alive and able to walk. All his 
men were dead, and the wounded had all been 
killed. They proposed to string him up to a tele- 
graph pole, but just as they got ready a sudden 
excitement brought the news that another train was 
coming. We were immediately put under guard 
again, and a body of rebels went off at a gallop to 
stop it. The train proved to be a repair train from 
the depot, and had no soldiers aboard, so it 
surrendered at once. 

All interest now centred upon the bursting open 
of the safe in the express waggon. Dynamite was 
brought, and we all grouped round to see the show. 
All the boxes were thrown out on the track and 
opened by the rebels. They had an awfully good 
time, one wit parading in a lady's hat. Anything 
they could not use they spoilt. 

The safe was duly burst, and it was found to 



UNDER FIRE ON THE RAILROAD 211 

contain 4,000 dollars in Mexican money. At this 
there were universal rejoicings, and we were saved — 
indeed we became fast friends. The leader told us 
to get what was left of our personal belongings and 
to get on board the other train. 

I got my hand-bag from the carriage, and found 
my revolver still safely hidden. This I slipped 
inside my shirt. My Kodak was not loaded, but I 
produced the instrument, and took a series of lovely 
groups, all work stopping in order that the heroes 
could pose properly. I swore to give them all 
prints, or rather to leave them at the General Post 
Office in Mexico City for them to claim when they 
entered the capital in triumph. 

With much hand-shaking and expressions of 
regret for the " fortune of war," we got on board 
the relief train. Just as we were leaving, the con- 
ductor and I asked for permission to take the 
porter's body along. This was immediately granted, 
and so we all journeyed to Mexico City in the 
luggage van; and it wasn't till we were safely off 
that we found time to be nervous about what had 
happened. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

RIOTING IN THE CITY 

Mexico City was excited. A plot to seize the bar- 
racks of Tacubaya had been discovered, and the city 
prison of Belem was crowded with prisoners. 

The police were much in evidence, and little 
patrols of mounted gendarmes were policing the 
squares and main roads. Business was at a stand- 
still, and the suburbs were reported to be already in 
the hands of the rebels. The shops were open, but 
no trade was in progress ; everybody gathered in the 
saloons and cafes and discussed the situation, while 
the newspaper boys reaped a rich harvest selling 
special editions. 

"The President was going to resign." Diaz the 
iron man, the autocrat, the statesman, Diaz who had 
made Mexico, Diaz the tyrant, had been forced by 
the revolution to resign. He was going to the 
Chamber of Deputies in person, and was going to 
hand over the reins of government to De la Barra 
until Madero could be elected. Six months ago he 
was the most popular man in the Republic. 

212 



RIOTING IN THE CITY 213 

The Centennial celebrations had been held, 
Mexico had been free for a hundred years, and at 
peace for the last thirty, and it was Diaz who had 
kept that peace. The representatives of European 
nations paid him homage, and the newspapers 
screamed his praises. What had he done to be 
forced to resign ? Nothing. 

Fickle, untrustworthy Mexico had turned. A 
revolution had been started, and younger men 
wanted the jobs held by their elders. Local oppres- 
sion by local authorities — in the name of the Presi- 
dent — had fanned the flame, and now, after all, he 
had to go. 

I was standing outside the Iturbide Hotel when 
the storm broke. A mob of men and boys carrying 
aloft a picture of Madero, and brandishing sticks 
and scraps of red, white, and green bunting — the 
national colours of Mexico — burst into the main 
street, and marched towards the central Cathedral 
Square, the "Zocalo." Everywhere the people 
rushed to swell the mob, and the news travelled 
from lip to lip : " Diaz has refused to resign ; he 
says he will to-morrow" — "manana" (to-morrow), 
the inevitable Spanish phrase of postponement. 

The mob was furious and shouted itself hoarse, 
crying " Viva Madero !" Anxious shopkeepers flew 
to put up shutters, and the police gathered to oppose 
the rioters. On the asphalt roads gravel was 



214 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

scattered so that the hoofs of the cavalry should not 
slip, and then the troops were called out. 

All Mexico was in the streets, and everybody was 
waiting for the inevitable clash between the military 
and the mob. It came earlier than was expected, 
when the rioters in a freak of temper commenced to 
break the windows of the European shops. The 
police dispersed the mob time and time again, but it 
re-formed, and when the evening fell there were 
many different mobs, several thousand strong, 
parading the city, shouting "Viva Madero — death 
to Diaz !" 

The lower elements had seized the public carriages, 
and these poor hacks, thickly clustered with Mexican 
hooligans, paraded round like floats in a proces- 
sion. The drinking - shops and pulquerias had 
been closed by order of the Governor of the 
Federal District, but still many of the mob were 
drunk. 

At about eight o'clock the Zocalo was full. This 
great square is the heart of Mexico City, as Trafalgar 
Square is the heart of London, and they are about 
equal in size. At each corner narrow streets — the 
important business streets of the city — lead into it. 
The centre is occupied by a bandstand and a, little 
park. One side is taken up by the Cathedral, and 
the far, side is the long fa9ade of the National Palace, 
while the two sides nearest the business quarter are 




S fM 



H 2 





g 5 



w 8 



RIOTING IN THE CITY 215 

arranged as covered ways, great pillared verandas 
resembling cloisters, beneath which are booths and 
shops. These are known as the "portales." The 
Zocalo is the centre for the great electric tram 
system, the rails of which were being relaid. The 
asphalt and stones had been dug up and were 
being used as missiles by the crowd, their inten- 
tion being to break the windows of the National 
Palace, drawn up before which was a regiment of 
soldiers. 

From a position in the portales I watched the 
scene. The frenzied crowd shouting and raging 
beneath the glare of the arc lamps, but still not as 
yet dangerous. The trams were unable to move, 
and a blockade had formed which the police were 
attempting to clear. A tram from the suburbs came 
in, and the mob rushed the platform and seized the 
controller handle from the driver. 

A policeman went to his assistance, and a peon 
beat his hat down over his eyes. The policeman 
drew his pistol and shot down his assailant. On 
the firing of the shot the whole crowd stopped 
shouting, and silence reigned for a second; then 
from those nearest the policeman a scream of 
execration went up. He hesitated for a moment, 
then ran straight for cover beneath the portales, 
the crowd opening to let him pass; he reached 
Tardan's hat shop and bolted through the door; 



2i6 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

the mob surged forward to follow him, but the iron 
curtains descended and covered both windows and 
doors. Hastily the shop-assistant screwed them 
into place and retreated into the shop. The fury 
of the mob knew no bounds. With the pieces of 
asphalt they bombarded the shops, wrecking all 
unprotected windows, then turned their attention 
to wrecking the arc lamps ; in a minute the square 
was almost in darkness. The shout had died down 
to a low growl of fury, and occasional pistol-shots 
showed the presence of fire-arms. 

A bugle-call rang out from the National Palace, 
and another side of the square filled with mounted 
gendarmes, their carbines unslung and ready for 
action. A hoarse command was given to clear the 
square, but the crowd commenced to stone the 
military, who without further delay opened fire on 
them. Women and men, unable to move in the 
crush, screamed in panic, and the whole body 
surged and fought to get out of the square. 

A great cry went up from the trapped rioters, 
but the firing continued, and a machine-gun on the 
roof of the palace poured its leaden hail into the 
mass. The fire continued for about three minutes, 
till the square was empty but for the dead and 
wounded, and those who crouched for cover behind 
the pillars of the portales. 

The mounted men chased the flying rioters and 



RIOTING IN THE CITY 217 

the police took charge of the square. Everywhere 
lay dead and wounded, and the whole ground was 
littered with clubs and stones. 

A tropical thunderstorm now broke, and in the 
pouring rain the ambulance parties collected the 
victims; the work lasted for about an hour and a 
half. By ten o'clock the Zocalo was clear, and the 
rioters all hidden in their homes. No truthful 
figures were ever published of the numbers killed 
and wounded, but in one " commissaria," or local 
police-station, I counted fifteen corpses, and the 
city hospital was full. 

The rain-storm had saved the city, and the night 
passed without further bloodshed, though every- 
body was apprehensive of the morrow. The next 
morning I went for my usual morning ride, and 
found that the mobs were already forming. By 
seven o'clock it was evident that there was going 
to be more trouble. 

I went to the cable office with my news, but 
found the line closed. I was, however, able to 
telegraph to the States by means of one of the 
Federal telegraphs. Within half an hour of the 
despatch of my message this line was also cut, and 
Mexico City was cut off from communication with 
the outside world. 

The mobs were soon parading the streets and 
doing a good deal of damage. In many cases they 



218 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

were led by women, the scenes recalling accounts 
of the French Revolution. 

The remarkable way in which the better classes 
accepted the situation was notable — everybody was 
out in the street enjoying the fun. The ladies sat 
in the balconies in their best clothes and watched 
the crowds. Mexico City was enjoying the carnival 
with leaden bullets for confetti. At every street 
corner stood groups of men, watching the latest 
whim of the mob. This new game was the forcible 
seizure of the public tram service. They rushed 
the cars and clambered all over them, crowds 
sitting on the roof and clustering on the back 
platforms. As the lower-class Mexican does not 
understand electricity, there were several fatali- 
ties before all the trams were run into their 
depots. 

A demonstration was held on the Paseo de la 
Reforma, and a policeman killed by the mob. 
Cavalry was rushed to the scene, and a charge 
took place. In the brilliant sunshine it was a 
remarkable scene. The air above the rioters was 
thick with stones and billets of wood; as the 
cavalry charged, the sunlight glittered on their 
flashing sabres, and within a minute the mob was 
running for its life, and only the wounded and 
dead remained. 

The rival ambulance corps descended and col- 




^a!?*S 







RIOTING IN THE CITY 219 

lected their victims. They threw sheets em- 
blazoned with the red cross or the blue cross over 
various public cabs, and used them to carry the 
victims to the hospitals. 

Blood-thirsty encounters took place outside 
several of the principal hotels, and by midday 
Mexico City looked as if it had stood a siege. All 
shops were boarded up and heavily shuttered, 
great pieces of the broken plate-glass windows 
lay in the street, and all wheeled traffic had disap- 
peared. Except for the police and the ambulances, 
there was not a single vehicle about. 

At last the news came that the President had 
at last resigned, and the city gave itself over to 
rejoicings. A motor-car came in bearing some of 
the rebels' leaders, who tried to calm the mob and 
appealed to them to preserve order. These rebels 
were welcomed by the authorities, but soon re- 
joined their commands, as the situation was by no 
means secure. 

General Diaz's house was situated in Cadena 
Street, and each end of this street was guarded by 
soldiers to prevent the mob attacking the house. 
All public buildings were guarded, and the citadel 
protected by a wire fence some eight feet high, 
covered by machine-guns. For two days the gar- 
rison had had no rest. 

Night fell on a city where rejoicings were 



220 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

being held at one corner of the street while fighting 
was in progress at the other. 

In the suburbs the men who had formed the 
Government hastily prepared for flight. All cafes 
were closed, and in the barricaded streets the 
crowd cheered and paraded. 



CHAPTER XXV 

AN EXODUS 

The rioting in the city still continued, but it had 
changed to a less serious form of public activity, 
rather resembling the behaviour of an election 
crowd than the bloody fighting of the day before. 
The city was still isolated, and to make matters 
worse, my ship was due to leave Vera Cruz on 
the following day. My only chance of reaching 
England in time for the Coronation was to leave 
the city for Vera Cruz at once. From all accounts 
the trains were absolutely held up, and there could 
be no traffic till the lines were cleared, and the 
bridges that had been wrecked by the rebels built 
up again. 

I was in despair, but arranged with a friend at 
the San Lazaro station to telephone me if any 
chance of getting through presented itself. My 
heavy baggage lay at Vera Cruz awaiting my 
arrival, but I had several small packages to carry 
upon the journey, so I packed and got everything 
ready for a hasty departure. Late in the afternoon 
I received a telephone message from the station, 

221 



222 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

to the effect that the line was clear, but there was 
no service for the public. There was, however, 
much excitement in the station, as they were pre- 
paring six special trains, two of them with armoured 
cars attached. I realized at once that the President 
was going to leave the city, and made up my 
mind to go if possible at the same time. The 
route that was clear was not the usual one direct 
to Vera Cruz via Puebla, but a roundabout way 
over the Interoceanic Company's system, so it 
was evident that the flight would be a secret 
one. 

After getting my luggage together, I was con- 
fronted with a new difficulty : there were no public 
hacks — the streets of the city, usually crowded with 
vehicles, were absolutely empty, with the exception 
of one or two ambulance automobiles. The station 
was situated about a mile away at the other end of 
the city and amidst the lowest quarters, an unwise 
district to visit on foot at any time, but at this period 
of excitement decidedly risky for a foreigner. 
While in this dilemma a Mexican peon wheeling a 
handcart approached. I asked him if he would 
carry my luggage, and in spite of the offer of several 
dollars he refused. 

After a long argument I overcame his fears by the 
appeal to his cupidity, and he consented to carry 
my kit. 



AN EXODUS 223 

Accompanied by a friend or two, we set out in 
procession for the station. Many evil looks were 
cast upon us, but we were not molested, and in 
about half an hour's time we reached our goal. 

The San Lazaro depot was surrounded by 
soldiers and police, but I was allowed to enter 
with my friends, though the peon was kept out- 
side. 

Within the station were several trains, the loco- 
motives standing by with a full head of steam. 
Attached to two of them were the black-and-white 
chequered armoured cars. They had been built in 
the city and equipped with machine-guns in the 
citadel, but had not yet been used against the 
rebels. Without further delay I boarded one of 
the special cars. The sentry on the rear platform 
stopped me, but I handed him my card with an air 
of complete assurance and passed by. He was 
perfectly contented, for in Mexico a journalist is 
allowed a great latitude. Piling my kit on a seat, 
I bade my friends farewell, and sat down, in fear 
and trembling, to await the arrival of someone in 
authority who would chuck me out. I heard the 
sentry present arms, and someone entered the 
carriage. To my great relief it was an officer of 
the Presidential Guard with whom I was acquainted. 
We greeted one another warmly, and before he 
could question my presence, I asked him for the 



224 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

news. The strain of the past few days had told 
hardly upon him, and he nervously sketched out 
the tale of the preparations for flight. All was 
chaos, and no one knew whether Diaz was coming, 
or whether it was merely members of the house- 
hold departing. As he spoke a prominent member 
of the late Government and his family entered 
I made myself useful carrying luggage, etc., and 
everybody seemed to take my presence for granted. 
A small escort of the Presidential Guard appeared, 
and from them we understood that our train was 
to leave shortly. Before we left, an armoured train 
pulled out of the station, followed by a special, 
containing a prominent member of a British firm 
who was to arrange all matters relative to the 
President's housing at Vera Cruz. 

It was a weird scene, and the nervous tension was 
terrific. One could see the lights of the arc lamps 
reflected from the glittering uniforms, and the red 
glare of the engine's fire-boxes, which were con- 
tinually being fed by the firemen, lit up the dark- 
ness, while the whole roof rang with the hiss of 
escaping steam, and little groups of men on the 
platforms spoke in subdued whispers. 

Outside in the station yard one could hear the 
howling of the mob as they paraded the empty 
streets of the city. 

It was past midnight, and just before we pulled 




TBOOPS GUARDING PRESIDENT DIAZ'S HOUSE IN CALLE CADENA 



AN EXODUS 225 

out a long grey motor-car, escorted by a few people 
in civilian attire, slid into the station, and Diaz — late 
President of the Republic — got in. 

The night was cloudy, but later the moon gave a 
good deal of brilliance, lighting up the fantastic 
landscape with its faint ghostly light. The little 
stations flew by and the false dawn was lighting the 
sky before we came to a halt. Round a curve we 
could see the tail lights of the train before us, for 
they had halted while the soldiers ahead hastily re- 
paired the wrecked track. Behind us, somewhere 
along the track, were following the other three 
special trains, containing the ex-President, his family, 
and his escort. Except for the hiss of escaping 
steam from the engine, and the noise of the con- 
ductor's boots as he walked along the rails, swinging 
a lantern, the night was absolutely silent ; but to 
our strained nerves, every patch of bushes and the 
dark shadows of the " barrancas " seemed as if they 
might harbour an ambush of rebels. The train went 
on, and the skies gradually lightened with the 
coming of the dawn. Standing on the platform of 
the carriage, I watched the colours of the sun- 
rise paint the snow-capped peak of Orizaba, which 
seemed to rise like an enchanted island from the 
sea of mist below. We halted at a little station 
and received the news that the rebels had attacked 
the train before us but had been beaten off, the 

IS 



226 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

\ machine-guns in the armoured car taking a heavy 
toll of them. 

The soldiers lined the windows of the cars and 
stood on the alert as we drew near the scene of the 
action. A shot or two rang out on the hill-sides and 
a body of mounted rebels, who were some dis- 
tance away from the track, galloped madly to cut us 
off. A volley from our escort, fired while the train 
was in motion, made them wheel round and scatter, 
firing occasional and futile shots at us as we went by. 

This same party of rebels attacked the train con- 
taining the President that was following us, and 
were defeated by the loss of over thirty men. Old 
General Hermandez and the ex-President himself 
taking part in the fight. 

We saw several small troops of rebels, and one 
station was in their hands ; but we did not stop and 
were not molested, with the exception of one or two 
casual shots fired at the train on general principles. 
By eight o'clock we reached Vera Cruz, where the 
heat was unbearable and the change in the air- 
pressure, caused by our descent of 8,000 feet, almost 
deafened us. 

The ex-Presidential train waited outside Vera 
Cruz, while Mr. Fred Adams, of the firm of Sir 
Weetman Pearson, made arrangements for the 
housing of the ex-President in a house next to the 
British Consulate, in the suburbs of Vera Cruz. 



AN EXODUS 227 

Vera Cruz — the rich city of the Holy Cross, as 
Drake termed it — lay bathed in heat. Under the 
portales of the plaza sat the residents, white-clad 
and cool, languid in the shadow. At one little 
marble-topped table two dust-begrimed officers of 
the Presidential Guard talked rapidly with some 
local officials. The Guard was usually so spick 
and span as to compare favourably with German 
officers, but to-day they were unshaven, dust- 
begrimed, and overheated, in their heavy uniforms 
of blue and silver. Yet they were deserving of 
great honour, for at great risk they had remained 
loyal to their President — Diaz — who was now 
going away into exile, leaving his adherents behind 
to stand or fall, according to the will of the 
incoming tyrant. To be a loyal officer of the 
Guard might mean much suffering in the future, 
but it was about the finest thing to be seen in 
Vera Cruz, for it is one thing to fight for a 
President, and it is another to be one of a small 
group assisting and guarding a shattered old man 
in the midst of hundreds of personal and political 
enemies, when no one knew what terror was about 
to happen. 

Diaz was harboured in a house near the British 
Consulate, a house belonging to an English firm, 
and every Englishman felt that it was a good thing 
to be a Britisher when even ex-Presidents realized 



228 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

the sanctuary and power that our flag affirmed. 
He had withstood the voice of the people. He 
had not listened to the murmurs of the younger 
generation. He had believed in the State that he 
had made, and he had believed in his people. It 
was all infinitely pitiful, but the old dog was 
beaten, and Liberty was again awake in the land. 
In Latin America Liberty is Licence, and even yet 
the shadow of his past kept the city of Vera Cruz 
quiet, though in the City of Mexico carillons 
rang from all the steeples, and the people cele- 
brated the downfall of a tyrant, while a special 
train brought Don Francisco I. Madero nearer to 
his capital. 

Newspaper-boys sold " special edition " after 
" special edition " and " Viva Madero !" flamed in 
electric lamps from over the public hall, yet the 
quiet groups of police kept the populace moving, 
and the platoons of soldiery at the corner of the 
streets leant on their loaded rifles and eyed the 
nervous crowd. Everybody feared an outbreak, 
and in the evening when the crowd commenced 
in orderly fashion to circulate round the plaza, 
and the old man whose duty it was at nightfall 
to fire off squibs in the branches of the trees 
in order to scare away the roosting birds lest 
they should defile the people circulating beneath, 
exploded his crackers, everyone started, and a 



AN EXODUS 229 

murmur went through the ranks of the waiting 
soldiery. 

The cause of the alarm noted, a wave of laughter 
swept the crowd and the boulevardiers, who beneath 
the portales resumed their sipping of cocktails and 
eager discussions of events. 

The night passed off quietly. 

In the hotel where I was staying I found several 
friends awaiting the arrival of the boats ; my ship, 
the Morro Castle (a Ward Line boat bound for Cuba 
and New York), was already in dock, but would not 
sail until the morrow. I got my luggage on board, 
and then returned to the hotel ; my friends had 
hired a sailing-boat, and we left the harbour for a 
run to the Isla de Sacrificios, a coral island where 
the bodies of many heretic English sailors lie, and 
where once stood a temple where the Spaniards 
first found human sacrifice in progress. 

The sea-breeze was refreshing, and the view of 
the city with its harbour, and the grim old prison 
of San Juan de Alloa, where political prisoners 
served life sentences in the unlighted cells beneath 
sea-level, backed by the Sierras and snow-capped 
Orizaba, seemed like a well-lighted panorama, and 
after life in the thin air of the city, each breath 
at sea-level seemed full, soothing, and soporific. 
That evening we gave ourselves a farewell supper, 
and although glad to be homeward-bound again, 



230 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

I regretted leaving old Mexico, whose charm and 
lure is as old as the Conquest. 

The Morro Castle steamed out into Campeche Bay, 
and I watched the coast-line grow faint in the tropic 
haze, and the white sails of the fishing-boats grow 
smaller and smaller, wondering what would be the 
fate of Mexico, yet glad of the restfulness of the 
sea trip after the anxious weeks. Well, I had had 
a busy time and now was glad to rest. 

The boat seemed strangely quiet, few people 
appeared in the saloon, though most of the cabins 
were full. Off Yucatan the tender brought more 
passengers aboard, and after awhile we up-anchored 
and sailed for Cuba — Hispaniola of blessed memory. 
We had done with Mexico, and forthwith the ship 
became populous. From every cabin came refugees 
and their families, bound for New York, and that 
heaven of all Latin Americans and good journalists — 
Paris. 

The passenger list was a mockery. Senor Pineda 
turned out to be Sr. Don, ex-Cabinet Minister, and 
they were all safe, free and upon the high seas. 
Everyone was very happy. It is a great thing to be 
on your way to Paris instead of off to prison, and the 
girls danced in the saloon, while mamma relaxed 
discipline and convention in the joy of their escape. 
In the smoke-room we discussed and intrigued to 
re-establish the Diaz regime, and great names in 



AN EXODUS 231 

politics and finance were bandied to and fro. The 
Junta in New York would welcome me, the English 
were friends of the educated people, not of " canalla," 
like the Maderistas — and then came the explosion. 
Somebody discovered Maderist spies on board com- 
municating by wireless the unfettered speech and 
aspiration of the refugees. 

Grim was the search for the traitor, and everyone 
felt the chill of hesitation and doubt. Finally sus- 
picion fell upon a quiet Licenciado, a Mexican 
barrister, and as Senora Estella, a little nut-brown 
Yucateca, told me that evening — they had evidence, 
" si " much evidence ! and the Licenciado would 
be lucky if a " desgracia " (an accident) did not 
occur. 

At Havana he left the ship, and never came on 
board again, although he left all his belongings. I 
hope that he merely missed the boat, but as the 
Junta had been using the wireless too, and Havana 
is a hot-bed of intrigue, it is possible that after all 
that " desgracia " must have occurred, and from the 
way that everybody was standing drinks to the 
damnation of Madero that evening — all without 
rhyme or reason — I sincerely believe that the Junta 
scored a trick in the narrow-streeted City of Havana. 

We were a queer crowd, and few of the men — 
myself among them — could stand anybody passing 
behind us without a display of " nerves." I had not 



232 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

realized it when the excitement was on, but the 
strain had told considerably, and I was by no means 
free from "lierves." Malaria and excitement play 
the devil with one's reserve of force. But the sea 
air was splendid, and I felt sorry as the lazy trip 
past the Florida coast drew to an end. 

New York at last ! Up the river and then the 
sky-scrapers, and the little green garden of Battery 
Point, through the Customs, across on a ferry, then 
smash into the whirl of Broadway once again — all 
Anglo-Saxon advertisements and speech — real 
hotels, real theatres, real food. Civilization once 
again, and all white faces in the streets. Mexico 
slipped back two centuries again, and once more I 
felt in touch with the centre of things, for New York 
is very like London. 

The return is always good, and the returned 
traveller finds few greater joys on his travels than 
when, after long absence, he gets into touch again 
with familiar things. Yet New York, although 
familiar, was not my city ; it was great ; it was joy- 
ful ; but it only whetted my appetite for London. 
Next day I sailed upon a White Star boat — home- 
ward bound. 

Since Madero has held the reins of government, 
a year has passed, and still the cables of the world 
vibrate to paragraphs of "insurgency in Mexico." 
Paris maintains Mexican securities, but peace does 



AN EXODUS 233 

not come. Armed bands of guerillas ravage the 
country, and liberty and anarchy are still confounded. 
Some day the American Flag will embrace all the 
territory from Panama to the Canadian line; that 
day cannot be long postponed. 

Mexico has exchanged a soldier for a civilian, 
peace for war, and prosperity and reputation for 
insecurity and insurrection. The Presidency of 
Mexico is a perilous honour — may he who holds 
it hold it firm. 



APPENDIX 

Since the foregoing chapters were written Mexican 
poHtics have again attracted the notice of the civilized 
world, and Don Francisco Indalecio Madero, President 
of Mexico, has been murdered in the streets of his 
capital. 

When I left the country in 191 1, Madero, an untried 
man, a politician and reformer unused to ruling, was 
about to be elected President by popular acclamation. 
The rising that he had so successfully led was popular, 
and the people were sick of the tyranny and corruption 
of the Diaz-Scientifico group, the farce of re-election, 
and the lack of general political honesty. 

Madero was an intellectual man and a man of wealth. 
Round him congregated the advanced thinkers of 
Mexico — the Socialists, Liberals, and all the firebrand 
politicians. Young Mexico, the generation that had 
grown up under Diaz, turned to Madero to free them 
from the bonds of tyranny. It was the opposite swing 
of the pendulum, and " Liberty" is a dangerous watch- 
word for a people that cannot differentiate between 
liberty and licence. 

His government was better than was expected, and 
his attitude towards " reformers," who wished to steal 
the bulk of the public money, was stronger than they 
had anticipated. Unfortunately, the Mexicans had 

234 



APPENDIX 235 

discovered that the profession of revolution was more 
attractive than that of agriculture, and scattered bands 
of rebels turned bandit were responsible for much local 
fighting and disorganization. The aftermath of revolu- 
tion produced the Orozco rebellion, and the Zapatistas, 
and countless minor risings. 

Finance is necessary for any revolution, and it is a 
matter for speculation to what extent reputable firms in 
the States and Europe supplied the sinews of war to 
maintain a constant anti- Government movement, or, in 
plainer words, hired bandits to prevent the success of 
reforms which would have secured Mexico's national 
wealth to the Mexicans rather than to foreigners. 
Political corruption ended in political assassination, 
and Mexico again stands before the world self-convicted 
of incapacity for stable government, still unable to dis- 
tinguish between Constitutional government and the 
doctrine of murder — the " higher expediency " of 
political assassination. 

Madero made mistakes, but he believed in his own 
ideals. When Felix Diaz started a futile revolution in 
Vera Cruz — a revolution so badly arranged that it 
collapsed from the fact that the revolutionary chiefs 
had not sufficient foresight to issue some badge or dis- 
tinguishing mark to their mercenaries, with the comic 
result that no one could distinguish between friend and 
foe — Madero spared his Hfe. If Mr. Taft's nephew 
invaded Philadelphia, and proceeded to shoot useful 
citizens, the United States of America would, on 
capturing him, execute him with the minimum of delay 
and the maximum of publicity, and everyone would 
agree that it was a wise move. Madero spared Diaz. 



236 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

Madero, the idealist, believed that for Mexico the era of 
political murder had passed, and in order to show the 
world that he believed in his ideals, spared the life of 
his captive. 

In February, Felix Diaz, General Huerta, and 
General Bernardo Reyes bought over part of the army, 
and by a coup d'etat seized the Citadel in Mexico City. 
Madero was caught unprepared. The country was 
peaceful and settling down, a new and free election was 
preparing, and popular confidence was firmly rooted in 
Madero. Mexico was settling into its stride and com- 
merce beginning to revive. This group of men, whom 
popular opinion had expelled from power before as 
corrupt and tyrannous, now revived, and by a sudden 
purely criminal act — the seizing of the Citadel — 
plunges the whole of the Republic again into the 
throes of civil war. 

For a parallel, imagine to yourself the minority of an 
unpopular party seizing the Tower some few weeks 
before a General Election, and then, by superior force 
of arms and general treachery, overthrowing the 
Government and assassinating the Cabinet. 

The provincial Governments were not in sympathy 
with this " revolution." It was not really a revolution, 
but much more like some extraordinary anarchist 
crime. The Madero Government was popular and 
doing well, yet this little group of adventurers seized 
the governing power of the State, and after fierce fight- 
ing, in which foreigners were killed and foreign 
property damaged, the Legations under fire, and 
American women killed, seized by treachery the person 
of Madero, who, after a day's confinement, was killed 



APPENDIX 237 

under circumstances that nobody who knows Mexico 
can possibly beHeve were, as the new Government say, 
" accidental." 

"While being taken to prison, Madero's friends 
attempted a rescue, and by one of them he was accident- 
ally shot." So runs General Huerta's " explanation " 
— the statement that he cabled to the Daily Express, 
" A full inquiry is to be made." And it was found that 
Madero, while seated in the motor, was shot in the 
back at close range, his clothes being singed by the 
burning powder. 

So it runs — Madero and his brother dead, victims 
of their own clemency, for they were killed by people 
whom they spared. Madero's work lives on. Mexico 
has awakened to the need of reform, and the Diaz- 
Huerta peace policy, that leads off with assassination, 
is not reform, but reaction — the darkness of the Middle 
Ages. The old Diaz regime was marked by corruption, 
tyranny, and no intellectual or political development. 
Mexico was bond-slave to the group that drained her 
treasure for themselves, and here again we find the 
same group striving to re-establish themselves, and 
founding a " policy of peace " upon a campaign of 
murder. They, in their eagerness to grasp the spoils 
of office (there are already rumours of a new Mexican 
loan), have imperilled the very existence of Mexico as a 
Republic at all. The provincial Governors are loath 
to accept the domination of the new group, and the 
northern States of the Republic talk of secession from 
the Union, for they, being nearer civilization, resent 
the imposition of barbaric methods. 

How long the United States will permit this condi- 



238 A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 

tion of affairs, and how long they will hand out impartial 
approbation to any successful group of adventurers, 
who chance to seize the helm of their neighbouring 
Republic, is a matter for serious consideration. When 
the fighting was in progress they mobilized an Army 
Corps, but, in spite of the death of American citizens, 
the destruction of foreign property, and the bombard- 
ment of the Legations, they took no active steps to 
maintain order or their national prestige. The reasons 
for this are obvious : Latin- American republics look 
upon the U.S.A. with deep suspicion, and the occupation 
of Mexico would entail a boycott of American trade. 
Cuba and the Philippines were expensive lessons for 
Washington, and the U.S.A. realizes in full the diffi- 
culties of international police work. On the other hand, 
European expansion is checked by the Monroe doc- 
trine, which forbids the acquisition of any land in the 
Western Hemisphere by a European Power ; and 
whether this doctrine still holds good, or whether the 
U.S.A. is sufficiently strong enough to enforce it (owing 
to her small military establishment and general lack 
of armament), has never been tested. Brazil would 
afford Germany opportunities such as she needs ; and 
Mexico, where there is something like ^100,000,000 
English capital, could be made into an American 
Egypt. 

Mexico needs saving from the Mexicans ; she cannot 
govern herself, and a Protectorate would afford her the 
opportunity to grow up, and at the same time safeguard 
foreign business interests and further the material and 
intellectual development of the country. One thing is 
certain, and that is that Washington should either 



APPENDIX 239 

guarantee to preserve order, or announce that she no 
longer holds to the Monroe doctrine. 

Mexican government is a tragic farce, and the 
foreign investor who has invested on the strength of the 
belief that the U.S.A. will hold to her obligations has 
a right to know what Washington's attitude is. At 
present it seems to be that the lives and property of 
foreigners may be endangered, and in some cases de- 
stroyed, without any steps being taken to enforce 
order. 

Mexico is a great country, rich and teeming with 
possibilities, but the present condition of instability 
renders her development hopeless; until commercial 
security, coupled with political honesty, asserts itself 
nothing can be hoped for. Whether this is likely to 
occur in Mexican hands the events of the last three 
years seem to leave not only in doubt, but beyond the 
range of probability. 



INDEX 



Aamargo, General, encounter 

with, 170- 171, 175 
Adams, Fred, 226 
Agua Dulce village, halt at, 26- 

29 
Alfonso, King of Spain, 175 
Alligators, shooting of, 26, 27 
Ants, fire, adventure with, 32, 33 

description of, 49 
Arteaga, 103 
Aztec and Toltec remains and 

curios, 51, 52, 89, 90, 94 

Kmpire and religion, 91, 92 

languages, 92 

methods of dyeing and 

weaving, 95 

B 

Barra, Senor de la, 158, 212 
Belem Prison, 2x2 
Brazil, 238 

Bull-fighting, description of, 
124, 125 

C 

Cabrera, Miguel, 103 

California, Lower, 154 

Campeche Bay, 230 

Canada, 233 

Canoe, loss of a, 38 

Canoes, description of, 23, 24 

Cartwright, 1 33- 139 

Casa d'Or, Cafe of, 133-138 

Cerda, Don Guillermo de la, 15, 

16, 17 
Cerdan, 153 

Cerro Prieto, Battle of, 153 
Chapultepec, 163 

Park, 119 

Chato, a native hunter, 50, 5 1, 52 
Chiapas, State of, 2, 3, 18, 19, 54, 

61 



Chihuahua, 152, 153, 154 
Chili, 107 

Coahuila State, 152 
Cocoyule, expedition to, 46-53 

hunting resources of, 45 

ruins of, Aztec City at, 51, 52 

Colon, Ca.f6, 160 

Colombia, 107 

Condesa, I^a, race track, 126 

Constantinople, 63 

Corral, Don Ramon, 153, 156 

Cortez, 89, 95, iiS 

Cosmopolitan Riding Club, the, 

119 
Cruz Azul. See Cruz Roya 
Cruz Roya, work of, and rivalry 

with Cruz Azal, 164, 165, 203 
Cuba, 229, 230, 238 
Cuernavaca, 139, 165 

D 

Darieu, 67 

Desierto, El, hills, encounter 

with rebels at, 191-201 
Diaz, Felix, 235, 236 
Diaz, President Porfirio, 99, 152, 

153. I57» 158, 175, 215, 
224, 227, 234 

dej)arture from Mexico 

City, 225 

government, 237 

reasons for his down- 
fall, 228 

resignation of, 158, 202, 

212, 219 

Dolores Cemetery, the, 75 

Drake, 89, 227 

E 

Earthquakes, first experience 

of, 64 
Egrets, 25 
" Enchiladas," description of, 84 



240 



INDEX 



241 



Enganchars. See Indians 
Bstella, Senora, 231 
"Esterros" country, explora- 
tion of, 19-44 

F 

Figuerroa, revolutionary leader, 

Fish, method of cooking, 41 
Food, description of native 

foods, 83-88 
" Foxchase, El," description of, 

I 19- 124 
" Frijoles," manner of eating, 87 



Germany, 238 

Gonzalez, I^ieutenant, 191 -201 

Grove-Johnson, Don Carlos, 

F.R.LB.A., 105 
Guatemala, 89, 140, 142 

Frontier of, 5, 8 

Guerrero State, 155 

H 

Hacienda, the, customs of, 80, 81 

description of, 78-79 

organization and ruling of, 

79-80 

baiies de, description of, 

81,82 
Halley's comet, 75 
Havana, 114, 231 
Hemken Hotel, the, 3, 4 
Hemken, hotel-keeper, 4, 5, 7, 

8, 17 
Hermandez, General, 226 
" Hoboes," description of, 140- 

142 
Huerta, General, 235, 236 
Huevos-y-arros, a Mexican dish, 

87 

I 

Ibarra, Jose, 103 

Indians, " Enganchars," 10, 11 

art of, 102, 104, 105 

eflfect of European art 

on, 103 

description of Mexican, 73- 

78, 79, 80, 81, 82 
settlement in the Esterros, 

43.44 
writings and codices, 104 



Isla de las Brujhas, 29, 30 

story of, 30, 31 

Isla de Sacrificios, 229 
Ispahan, 63 

Jackson, his essays in biology, 

46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 53 
Jaguar, or "black tiger," 45 
shooting of, and descrip- 
tion, 52 
"Jerky," dried beef, 22, 23 
Jocky Club de Mexico, the, 125, 

126 
Jose, a Mexican boy, 46, 47» 5i> 

Juarez, Benito, 162, 184 
Juchitan, 45, 50 



Leopard, stalking of, 35, 36 
I/ondon, 232 
Luis, 35, 36, 37, 185, 190 
Luque, General, 153 

M 

Machete, descrrption of, 10 

Madero, Don Francisco Inda- 

lecio, 152, 153, 158, 

160, 162, 163, 212, 213, 

228, 231, 232 

assassination of, 234, 

237 
character and work, 

234, 235. 236 
Manzanillo, 141 

Maria Guerrero Theatre, de- 
scription of, 161 
Marlake, 133-139 
Maximilian, 162 
Maya monuments, 102 
Mexico City, 18, 54, 61, 90, 93, 

114, 115, 126-128, 137, 

139. 197 ^ 

arrival at, 62 

description of, 63, 64, 70 

conditions of labour in, 

65, 66 

funerals in, 76, 77 

inhabitants of, 65, 68- 

— journey to, under rebel 

fire, 202-211 
Rebel rioting in, 213-220 

16 



242 



A BUSY TIME IN MEXICO 



Mexico, Republic of, 2, 59 
army and its equip- 
ment, 96, 97-99, 192 

art treasures of, 103, 104 

Christmas in, 145, 146 

climate of, 116 

customs of, 5, 6 

description of country, 

117, 118, 142, 183, 239 
financial position of, 

237, 239 
game and fish of, 115, 

116, 117 
Government of, 156, 

158-160, 235 
labour conditions in, 

146- 148 
land speculation and 

colonization, 66, 67 

literature of, 105 

lower classes in, 140 

mining in, 66 

Presidency of, 233 

revolution, causes of, 

157. 158 

incidents m, 153- 

158, 167-169, 176- 
182, 186-190. See 
also Mexico City 
and Desierto hills 

rubber-growing in, 65, 

66 
Michoacan, 156, 170 
Military Riding Club, the, 120 
Miners' Club, the, 130, 132, 139 
"Mole de guajalote," descrip- 
tion of, 87 
Morelia, 173 

sack of, 156 

Morocco, 197 
Mosquitoes, 21, 23 
nets, 109 

N 
Naranjo, El, ranch of, 6, 7 

inhabitants of, 8 

road to, 9-15 

Navarrez, General, 173, 174, 180, 

181, 182 
New York, 229, 230 

O 

Oaxaca, State of, 61, 155 
Ochave, Baltaras de, 103 



Orizaba, 225, 229 

Orozco rebelhon, the, 235 

Outfit, hints on suitable clothing 

and essentials of travel, 

107-109 

armament, 110-112 

medicine-case, 113-114 

photographic necessities, 

117 

P 

Pan - American railways, acci- 
dent on, 57, 58 

accommodation on, 56 

description of, 56, 57 

railway restaurants on, 

58, 59, 60 

Panama, 233 

Paris, 63, 230, 232 

Pascual, a Mexican student, 
gastronomic adventures with, 
83-88 

Paseo de la Reforma, rebel de- 
monstration at, 218 

Pearson, Sir Weetman, 226 

Peons, habits and character of 
Mexican, 146-148, 157 

Peralvillo, adventure at the 
house in the suburb of, 161- 
164 

Peru, Incas of, 89 

Philadelphia, 235 

Philippines, 238 

Pigs, description of wild Mexi- 
can breed, 31 

adventure with, 32, 33 

Pijijapam Station, halt at, 20, 21, 
22 

Puebla, 105, 153, 222 

Pulque, the manufacture of, 84, 
85 

saloon, description of, 85, 86 

Pulteney, description of, adven- 
ture with Toreros, 128-139 

R 
Race meetings, description of, 

126, 127 
Revolution. See Mexico 
Reyes, General Bernardo, 236 
Rio Grande, the, 176 
Road of the Dead, the, 93 
Rubber-growing. See Mexico 
Rurales, or mounted police, 30, 

31 



INDEX 



243 



Rurales, or movinted police, de- 
scription of, 99, 100 
equipment, 100, loi 



Sabino, 45 

St. Cyr, 97 

Salina Cruz, 61, 141 

San Geronimo, 46, 54, 61 

Brewery at, 61 

San Juan de Alloa, prison of, 229 
San Lazaro quarter, 86 
Santa Lucrecia, 174, 181 
Seffer, Dr. Olson, 165 
Sharks at Tolomita, 37, 38 
Spoonbill, description of, 42 
Storm, a tropical, description of, 

42,43 

T 

Tacubay a barracks, 212 
Taft, ex-President, 235 
Tamalpa, 170 
Tapachula, 2, 3, 4, 8, 13, 17, 54 

description of the station 

at, 54, 55 
Tehuantepec, 46 

Isthmus of, 2, 3, 19 

Teomique, the Goddess of 

Death, 76 
Teotihuacan ruins, 93, 94 
Three Cats, the Caf6 o^ 132 
Ticks, jungle, 40 
Tlalpam, 97 
Tolomita, Bar of, halt at, 31-37 

crossing the Bar, 38 

Tonala, 44, 59 



Toreros, description and charac- 
ter of, 124, 129 
Trott, Johnny, 128-139 
Tumbulteco dialect, 11 
Turtle, capture of, 36, 37 

U 

United States, relations with 
Mexico, 154, 156, 158, 159, 237- 
239 ^ 

Vera Cruz, 128, 158, 166, 202, 
221, 224, 228 

description of, 227 

journey to, 224226 

revolution in, 235 

Viga Canal, the, 197 

W 

Washington, 63, 238, 239 
West Point, 97 

Witchcraft, its practice by 
Indians, 77-78 

X 

Xochimilco, 86 

Y 

Yucatan, 90, 102, 160, 230 
Z 

Zapatistas risings, 235 
Zocalo, 213, 214, 215 

and the Thieves' Market, 94 

Zumarraga, Bishop, 104 



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